#seriously just pick a goddamn date and time its not that difficult to let me know when to expect someone to come over for like five minutes

[the-kipsabian]

i swear theres nothing worse than having a scheduled maintenance that requires ppl to come into your home and then they post a notice about it like "yeah somewhere between x and y hours" and its literally a nine hour window on three different potential days

[bucky-h0e]

A/N: We getting spoiled this week! I'm working out the schedule, but just for this week I've got a few extra posts to make up for my absence - hopefully you enjoy them all!

Anyway, here's a short, late-ish Valentines' Day special.

Warnings: Fluff, Bucky and Alpine's father-daughter dates, Sam and Bucky embarrassing Alpine like good father's should

Serendipity Masterlist

Bucky and Alpine (+Sam) celebrate Valentines Day

There are many ways this day could go and have gone

The only constant throughout the years are that Alpine always gets Bucky and Sam flowers

and Bucky and Sam always get Alpine flowers

it started off as a competition, Bucky got Alpine flowers one year and Sam went out and bought a bigger bouquet

the next year, Sam bought a bouquet bigger than the one from the previous year, Bucky bought her two

so she basically gets given an entire flower shop but eventually she told them to knock it off

i mean, do you know how hard it is to look after and set up 30+ bouquets?

it's fucking difficult and she wasn't even getting paid to do it

now, if they all have significant others (unlikely because Bucky only has three contacts in his phone and one of those is his therapist) then they spend most of the day with them

Bucky and Alpine will always try to go out for food during the day

just a little father-daughter date

nothing major

Bucky denies it

Alpine has heart eyes and keeps telling everyone that the Winter Soldier is her dad

absolutely uses it to her advantage to get free cake

and to scare away dates

the most likely scenario though is that Bucky doesn't have a date, Sam does and Alpine's situation varies from moment to moment

if she doesn't have a date then she's all

"Bucky's all the Valentines I need"

"Unless Thor comes around cause goddamn"

"i'd stretch for Steven Strange too."

"or literally any Wakandan."

"Especially that M'Baku guy."

"Thanks Al."

if she does have a date

"I can cancel, i don't even know this man. I can just tell him to fuck off."

"I don't need some guy that I met randomly at work"

"At my bar job no less"

"Seriously Bucky, he ain't no M'Baku so-"

"Kid, shut up, go on your date."

"don't interrupt me you living fossil"

"fucking, rude grumpy ass"

once it's decided that yes, she will be going on her date

she drags him over to her place so he can keep her company whilst she get's ready

she'll aggressively sing songs at him

which bucky is very used to at this point

maybe force him into a little dancey-dance

which he'll say he hates but very much enjoys it

spins her at some point and dips her

she'll also cook him dinner, because if he's gunna be alone then she'll be damned if its not with a hot meal

Bucky won't admit it, but he loves when she cooks because it reminds him of coming home to a family and a food on the table made by someone who loves him

also it means he doesn't have to cook

when she's ready, she's normally a ball of confidence (apart from the time she dated a young history professor - she was a wreck)

so he doesn't need to give her a pep talk or anything

which is good because he doesn't exactly know how to tell a girl he hopes she gets laid?

bit of weird thing to say to his young neighbour who he views as a daughter

when her date comes to pick her up, he's standing right behind her glaring at the guy

sizing him up, committing his face to memory just in case

"okay, we'll be off now, lock my door for me would you Buck"

she'll lean up (thats a lie, she practically drags him so he lowers himself to her height) and kiss his cheek goodnight before taking her dates arm and smiling

as he's locking her door with his spare key (they'd given each other spare keys in cases of emergency but lets be honest Alpine uses them whenever she wants) he'll over hear a bit of their conversation which normally revolved around him

"It that-"

"No"

"It is!"

"It's not."

"You know the Winter Soldier?!"

"He's not the Winter Soldier."

That conversation normally tells him that the date isn't going to go well

he knew she hated when a date would focus on that aspect of him

like for fucks sake man is actually a living time machine

and alpine knows a lot about him

ask better questions

whilst she's on her date, he'll sit at home and watch movie recommendations from her and Sam

he'll read

listen to music

drink beer that will definitely not get him drunk

when Alpine comes back, he'll send her a text to make sure she's safe

he used to check on her by opening the door but she once caught her and an ex boyfriend in a rather

awkward

position to say the least

they couldn't look at each other for a week after that and bucky had very quickly learnt his lesson

if the dates gone well then he won't get a response until later that night

if it goes okay then it normally means there will be a second date before anything happens between the pair

if the night is bad, then Bucky had received the text first and had gone out to pick her up from wherever the date was

we love a protective dad

on the nights that don't end with Alpine in her place getting lucky (which is most years up until she meets the before mentioned professor - i've got a fucking plan for these two i swear)

they sit together on Bucky's couch, drinking beer and teasing each other

Alpine is normally still dressed up at this point

"Bucky rub my feet"

"fuck no"

"oh c'mon you're supposed to be a 40s gentleman"

"and you're supposed to be a lady, put the dogs away"

"i fucking sWEAR TO GOD I GOT NICE FEET BARNES"

"jar."

her unhinged and outlandish outbursts had led to Bucky getting a 'swear jar' of sorts

she'd have to put a dollar in for every one

"Fucking... jar you in a minute

"Nice threat Al"

"Grandpa, I swear to god"

"Which one"

now sometimes Sam will join them if he doesn't have a date but come on

you can't tell me that Sam Wilson

Captain America

doesn't have a Valentines' date

he isn't a social recluse like a certain Steve Rogers

Now, Bucky and Sam are very protective fathers

nobody can tell me otherwise

you also can't tell me that they wouldn't be the biggest fucking teases in the world

every valentines day, without fail, Alpine gets a video message from Sam

It's of him and Bucky, giving her "advice"

"This Valentine's Day here's a couple of things from a couple of guys"

Bucky looks physically pained the first few times she'd been sent it

"Rule number one, always make sure to give a gift instead of receive one, thats makes you a good person."

Sam is very obviously loving this, every single year

"rule number two, be yourself always and forever with anyone and everyone"

"that's very nice. Always, Always remember rule number one"

"but always keep in mind rule number two"

"number two has heart too"

"at the end of the day it takes two to make things right"

it was an ongoing joke that alpine was ready to end

especially when they sent it to the professor boyfriend on their first valentines day together

"I am.... so sorry"

"It's okay, love, it'd endearing"

"it's embarrassing"

"they care about you"

"i'm going to end them"

"one thing before you do, how did they get my number?"

poor baby forgot who he was dating for a hot second there

little does he know he's going to be cockblocked most valentines' by James Barnes

this poor man just wants to swoop Alpine off her feet and treat her like a queen

Bucky's sat there like a little gremlin with a beer and a smug little grin

he ain't ready to be an actual grandpa just yet

especially if the kid takes after Alpine

50/50 is just too much of a risk at that point

has 100% convinced Sam to crash one of their dates before now

Sam agrees but has a moment of clarity in the middle of it

"You ever think that we hang around this kid too much?"

Bucky's sat there with sunglasses looking through a newspaper with eye holes cut out

"No."

they're in one of the fanciest restaurants in New York and Bucky looks like a cartoon villain

"What happened to you man?"

"Parenthood."

he's joking, partially

he loves Alpine and the professor is the only boyfriend of hers he's like for her

but

Until the day comes where Alpine meets that man, Bucky is her main Valentine's bitch

and he makes sure of it

he really, really hates all of Alpine's ex-boyfriends

[joeys-time-capsule]

9/3/2021

First entry wooooo. This will be vaguely reminiscent of shitposting, so I will not be using my journalism skills whilst writing this. I’m just going to write, no strings attached. 

Today was fairly okay, and by okay I mean I didn’t necessarily want to off myself. I mean not very much, I guess. 

I started my morning by waking up at a crisp 7am, my usual routine set from being in the facility for so long. Its hard to break those habits, but at least that can be coded as something positive and rather productive. I do enjoy waking up in the morning glory, with the sun attempting to peek through my blackout curtains... it feels like I’m doing something properly rather than just laying in bed until I’m forced by my body to get up for food or the bathroom. 

For breakfast today, I just made eggs and toast because it feels like the further into the week I get, food is just... difficult. My dad works completely from home because of the pandemic but also because (and I can admit this without shame now) I’m a little bit high maintenance when it comes to mental health and basic human functions like showering and eating. 

Therapy was an absolute chore today. Always is, always will be. Listening to fucking Christina cry for half an hour seems counter-productive, and we hardly ever get to other people, let alone me. I think I would like it more if I actually got to talk through my issues more, but group therapy just isn’t a great place for that. If you’re not loud, you don’t really get to speak unless they force you. 

And when it comes to speaking, I’m worse-off in that department than ever. I don’t think I’ve actually said much in the past two weeks outside of “Hi, my name is Jocelyn, I go by Joey, I use they/them pronouns, and I’m a journalism and literature double major.” 

I seriously order everything on my phone and show the fast food workers my name and order number. It’s actually kind of pathetic, the more I think about it. I’ve said more in this post than I have verbally in days. Maybe weeks. I had to teach my dad a few signs like “water”, “school”, and of course “yes” and “no”. I feel like I disappoint him when I don’t talk, but... at least he tries to understand. 

I feel bad for my siblings, too. Step-siblings, that is. Today my brother wanted to play video games when I got home and I was so mentally exhausted from the week I’ve had that I had to just shake my head and walk away. He’s too young to understand all of this. Why I don’t talk. Why I hole myself up in my room and busy myself with homework that isn’t due for a week or two. And I’m never going to be able to explain everything to him. 

Oh, and not that any of the people who might read this know him, but shit with Anthony just keeps hitting the fan. He is a Grade-A pain in my ass. I wish I could look him in the eye and tell him that. If I had to think and count, I would say he’s given me.... 7 panic attacks this week alone? You do the math. I’m averaging one a day. One a day is for fucking vitamins, not anxiety attacks. 

Skip this next part if you don’t want a play by play about who Anthony is and what he’s done. 

Anthony is the man who ruined my life. Plain and simple. And he lives rent-fucking-free in my brain. Always. And I hate it. You know how usually when someone hurts you, a normal person would be able to move on? Nope. Been years. I still haven’t. Sorry, but I’m never going to “move on” from my assault. Especially not when he caused me to have a psychotic break right on the damn anniversary of said assault. It’s because of him that I’m terrified of fucking parties and pick up trucks and why I can’t wear skirts without feeling like I’m heading straight for death. It’s because of him that if I have kids one day, I will be driving them to their school dances. They won’t be riding with their dates. Not until I can gauge whether or not their prospective partner is good for them. And believe me, he was good to me. Until he wasn’t. And he’s all I’ve thought about this week, a relentless memory that plays over and over in my head like a broken record. This is the shit I need to spout about in therapy, but I just can’t. I want to talk about every detail. How he picked me up that night with the most charming smile, and by the end of the night, seemed to hate my guts. How he looked my father in the eye knowing what he was going to do later on if I said no to him. I want to talk about how I didn’t move from my bed, until I had to, how I didn’t go to school for DAYS. And how when I came back, I was just another whore. A football player’s trophy. How his actions have ravaged me and made me the submissive, sad, little person I am. How I can’t talk most of the time because of him. I want to sit and dissect all of it, find out where the hell I went wrong. But goddamn, there isn’t enough time in the day to do all of that. 

Anyways. Enough about him for today, because I assure you there will be a time where I can tell my story fully and I don’t want to bore you all before I get to that point in my life. 

In summation, didn’t kill myself today. I call that a win. I ate two full meals, I did my homework, and I went to therapy. That’s good enough for a Friday. 

Until the next time I ramble,

Jo.

[polkahotness]

SHORTAKI WEEK, DAY 4

FFN // AO3

                               Switch

Adjusting to Freshmen-life at Hillwood High School had proven to be more difficult than either Arnold or Helga had anticipated. As they watched their friends thrive in their new environment, both felt as though they were still struggling to find their place within clubs, classes, and cliques. Each day during the first few weeks was a rush to navigate through the unfamiliar hallways that were filled to the brim with bustling students who had long since learned the various shortcuts and routes to most effectively get to their next hour's class.

Arnold and Helga on the other hand, were still taking the less-direct paths which led them around corners and into one another on a semi-frequent basis. And while this collision was not something that the pair had never accidently done before, on this particular afternoon, it would prove to be an encounter that would forever change their young lives.

SMACK!

Right around the corner of the 500 and 300 wing, Arnold Shortman ran directly into Helga G. Pataki, both of their armfuls of textbooks, notebooks, pens, and other high school essentials scattering around them like confetti from a canon.

"Seriously, footballhead?!" Helga exclaimed as she began collecting her various items that had mingled with Arnold's on the floor of the hallway. "Personally, I would have thought that by now, you'd know how to use your own two feet properly!"

"Sorry, Helga," Arnold grumbled as he too began feverishly gathering his things as quickly as possible. The warning bell had already rang, and both he and Helga were sure to be late if they didn't hurry. "I guess I was just in a rush."

"I'll say," the young blonde responded while glancing up to sneak a glimpse at the boy who had stolen her heart ages ago and still possessed to this day. Her eyes lingered on the boy with the oddly shaped head for a long moment as he picked up his belongings, though her gaze brought heat to his skin causing him to look up and meet eyes with his feisty classmate.

"What?" the boy asked her while pausing momentarily mid-reach for his phone which lay face-down in its black protective case.

"What, what, Arnoldo?" Helga spat back at him while maintaining their eye-contact and reaching to grab her own phone.

"You're staring at me," Arnold noted while finally palming the phone and reaching back to shove it into the pocket of his jeans. Without leaving Helga's eyes, he reached towards the next item on his horizon—his Algebra 2 textbook, which he needed for the class that he was nearly positive he would be late to after his run-in with Helga.

Out of everything she had dropped, Helga's own cellphone was the least of her worries—her focus instead on the notebook that lay just head of where Arnold was squatting before her. Inside the pages of that notebook were some of Helga's deepest thoughts and strongest feelings regarding him and their complicated relationship.

He could never find out what was written on the lines of the papers inside.

Taking the phone she'd grabbed to cram it into the side-pocket of the zip-up sweater she was wearing, she soon snatched the notebook while silently breathing a sigh of relief that Arnold was none-the-wiser as to what lay inside. "Uh, newsflash—it's not me who's doing the staring here, it's you." Her retort merely triggered Arnold to exchange a blank look with the quick-witted blonde before he picked up the last of the items he had dropped.

"Whatever you say, Helga," he recited—a typical ending to a typical conversation with the girl he still harbored feelings for even after all of these years. Oftentimes he would lie awake until the early hours of the morning while staring ahead at the stars that shone brightly above him through his skylight. His mind would endlessly replay moments the two of them had shared since their fifth-grade trip to San Lorenzo and wonder where it was that they went wrong.

Could it have been that they were too young?

Had they simply not been ready?

And more importantly, was there still a chance to remedy what the pair had seemingly lost?

For Arnold, the answers to his questions lay trapped inside the mind of one Helga G. Pataki; the object of both his desires and absolute frustration. He could never seem to wiggle himself back into her thought process, no matter how hard he tried—and he had certainly tried.

As the two parted ways for the next hour that would begin in less than a minute's time, neither realized that the phone in their pockets could hold the key to unlocking the mysteries that either teenager ruminated over time after time. Perhaps it was in their accidental switch that they would find their answers after all.

----------------------

DING. DING. DING. DING.

Just as the bell let out its final ring, Helga slid into the seat of her English class. Panting from her jog after her crash with Arnold, Helga tossed the things she'd gathered in haste onto the top of her desk. Glancing her way, Phoebe immediately knew that something was troubling her best friend.

"Is everything alright, Helga?" She asked as their teacher continued talking in the opposite corner of the room to one of their fellow students. "You seem to be… discombobulated today."

"That's the understatement of the year," Helga answered while sorting through the compilation of things she'd gathered in haste just moments ago. "I swear to you, Pheebs, if I run into Arnold one more time, I might kill him. This is the third time in two weeks that he's almost made me late for class."

"Considering how often the two of you run into one another, I think it may be improbable to expect it won't happen again," Phoebe mused with a soft smile. She knew of the mutual feelings that Helga and Arnold shared for one another. She herself had engaged in dating shortly after the infamous trip to San Lorenzo, however for Phoebe and Gerald, their partnership had proven to be successful in all of the ways that their best friends' relationship hadn't.

Despite this, both Phoebe and Gerald never let go of the hope that their friends would one day reconnect in a way that would work out for the better. From their objective points of view, Helga and Arnold were perfect for one another. To them, it seemed that their friends merely lacked the motivation at being truly honest with one another; the real kryptonite that plagued and stood in the way of their seemingly imminent relationship.

"I don't know, Phoebe," Helga finally said as she softly traced the cover of her precious notebook that Arnold had once again almost seen the contents of. "You'd think the way the universe keeps shoving us together, something would have happened by now."

"But something did happen," Phoebe offered, though Helga was less than receptive.

"Yeah. In the fifth grade," she sneered before rolling her eyes and leaning back into the chair of her desk while crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Maybe it's time to give up and face the facts. Arnold and I are just… never going to work. We'll be forced to run into each other for the rest of our lives… our feelings littering the floor in a mess of emotional debris we keep having to pick up and hide away like some kind of… goddamn racoon, or something. A crow, maybe. They collect things, don't they?"

The question confused Phoebe who was accustomed to Helga's nonsensical rants that typically revolved around Arnold only to jut off in another direction entirely by the end. "Y-Yes, they do, but Helga—"

"Honestly, it's fine, I guess," Helga continued as though she hadn't heard a word her friend had said. "So, we collect our feelings like objects. Big deal. If he isn't willing to show me his, then I sure as hell am not willing to show him mine." Seeing that their teacher was still conversing with someone across the way about what appeared to be a previous assignment, Helga snuck her hand into the pocket of her sweater to grab the phone that lay inside.

"That's all there is to it," she said while pulling out the phone and clicking the button on the side to illuminate the screen. "I'll keep my feelings to myself and Arnold—" Helga stopped mid-sentence as she stared down at the screensaver that looked back at her.

"Helga?" Phoebe called her friend's name with a twinge of fear beneath her voice. "Helga, what is it? Is your phone alright after your hallway mishap?"

"I don't know…" she uttered before holding up the phone for Phoebe to see, "because this isn't my phone. It's Arnold's."

Meanwhile, a hallway over, Arnold Shortman had yet to notice that the phone residing safely in his pocket was not that of his own.

Slipping into his seat at the moment the bell chimed it's final chime, he too was glad that he hadn't collected another tardy slip like he had as a direct result of previous run-ins with Helga. It always seemed that the two of them found one another at the intersection of the 500 and 300 wings—Arnold silently wondered why he kept taking that route when he knew their colliding was almost fated to occur.

Perhaps he did it because he wanted them to bump into each other.

Maybe he secretly hoped that one of these times, just once, Helga might not snap at him and instead spill her feelings rather than her notebooks, pens, and papers.

"Hey, Arnold!" Gerald whispered out to his friend from the next row, and Arnold turned his head to direct his gaze towards him. "Did you get my message?"

"Huh?"

Pulling out his own phone and holding it out underneath his desk, he wiggled it back and forth as if the action would further illustrate his question. "Your phone! Did you get my text?" His voice was barely a whisper and more of a calculated soft-shout. It was a good thing their teacher spent the majority of his time playing Sudoku behind his desk rather than paying any attention to the going-ons of his classroom.

"No, why?" Arnold responded while fighting with his jeans to take out his cellphone.

"Just check it, man," Gerald instructed before continuing to explain what the message said; alleviating the need to read the text in the first place. "We're meeting at Gerald Field after school today for baseball. You in?"

"Sure. Sounds like fun," he remarked before furrowing his brow. "But why didn't I feel my phone vibrate? You must have texted me right when Helga and I ran into each other."

"Ah man, again?" his friend said with mock surprise. "Mm mm MM. Arnold, I think the universe is trying to tell you something and you'd better start listening. Next time it may do something more drastic than ramming you into each other."

As Arnold finally freed the phone from his pocket and looked down towards the screen, his eyes widened in horror. "Uh… about that…" he muttered as Gerald eyed him curiously.

"What, the universe or baseball?"

"Both," Arnold answered before holding up the phone in his possession. "This isn't my phone."

"Then who's is it?" Gerald soon asked; Arnold clicking the button on the side to light up the screen which revealed a lockscreen with the image of a pink neon heart against a dark backdrop.

"Helga's."

"No…"

"Yes," Arnold insisted with a shake of his head. "Maybe the universe already took it up another notch…"

"Yeah, maybe," Gerald affirmed before shrugging his shoulders. "Or maybe it just doesn't want you to play baseball this afternoon."

"Gerald…"

"What?" He exclaimed as their teacher rose from their desk to finally make their way towards the front of the classroom to begin the hour. Apparently, he'd finished his latest Sudoku puzzle. "So, you gotta exchange phones with Helga. Big whoop. Use it to your advantage."

"Alright class," the teacher addressed the class. "Take out your textbooks and flip to page 2-0-2," he instructed as Gerald and Arnold followed suit; the football-headed boy setting Helga's phone carefully down to rest on his lap.

"What do you mean to my advantage?" Arnold whispered over while pulling out his algebra book and turning the pages to find the appropriate number.

"You know," Gerald muttered back while flipping through his own book. "Maybe we can hack in or something."

"To her phone?!" Arnold said loudly; a few stray eyes glancing in his direction at the minor outburst. Quieting himself, he leaned over to whisper back, "I'm not breaking into Helga's phone, Gerald. That's a breach of privacy. If she ever found out, she'd kill me."

"Yeah. If she found out," he soon responded. "And she won't."

"Oh yeah? How do you figure?"

Gerald shrugged his shoulders while thinking for a moment before saying, "I don't know. I'll talk to Phoebe."

"No. Absolutely not, Gerald," Arnold insisted as silence fell over the classroom at his words. Suddenly feeling a heat surround him at the countless eyes resting on him, their teacher included, a dark-red blush filled in Arnold's cheeks as he realized he'd been caught. "Sorry," he sheepishly told the teacher, who proceeded to begin explaining the latest in their mathematical lesson-plan.

Midway through his explanation, a wad of paper landed on the top of Arnold's desk; his eyes shooting over in the direction from where it came—Gerald. Picking it up and unfurling it, his eyes scanned over the words his friend had scrawled down for him to read.

After class, meet me by my locker. I know a guy.

Frowning at the two sentences staring back at him, Arnold turned to shoot his friend a glare before shaking his head and mouthing the word, 'No.' But even though he had no intentions of breaking into Helga's phone, a part of Arnold couldn't help but wonder what lay behind the screen and inside Helga's mind.

Could the secrets Arnold seeked really be locked away inside the phone precariously perched on his lap? And to what lengths was he willing to go to discover them?

----------------------

"Gerald, I really think this is a bad idea," Arnold stated as he walked by his side from their lockers in pursuit of the 'connection' that awaited them.

"Relax, man," Gerald reassured his nervous friend while giving him a slap on the back and using it as a way to continue pushing him forward on their mission. "Fuzzy Slippers knows a guy who knows a guy who's cousins with this girl who knows how to hack into anything. They call her 'The Giant.'"

"The Giant?" he repeated with heavy skepticism. "I'm assuming that means they're tall or something?"

"No clue," the tall-haired boy admitted. "All I know is we're supposed to meet her in the 100 wing by that cluster of lockers nobody uses."

"The 100 wing?" Arnold intoned with obvious bias. "Gerald, nobody uses that hallway except to go into the wrestling room from the side door. Well, and the cafeteria, I guess. And to do shady things…"

"And just what is it you think we are doing? We're breaking into Helga G. Pataki's phone. What's shadier than that?" he emphasized. "Besides, wrestling doesn't start until after school PLUS we've already had lunch… so right now during sixth period with two more hours to go before school's done… Man, it is the perfect meeting spot."

Not wanting to argue about whether or not they should follow through with his insane plan, the flaxen-haired boy moved on to ask a different kind of question just as they rounded the corner that led to the entrance of the 100 wing. "How long do you think it'll take?" he paused as though waiting for Gerald to tell him he understood what he was saying. To be more direct, Arnold reiterated himself. "You know, the hacking-in part."

"Shh!" Gerald shushed. "Keep your voice down, alright? We don't need everybody knowing that we're over here."

"Why not?" Arnold reacted right away. "We're not not allowed to be in this hallway. There's a bathroom down here, we could always say we're going there or something." The pair continued to walk in silence for a moment as the slowly made their way down the infamous wing.

"I just can't be late to last period, again, Gerald," Arnold let out and he dropped his head back in annoyance while he continued to talk. "Mr. Nelson is a stickler for being on time—do you know that he locks the door when the bell rings?"

Perking his head up, Gerald said, "You've gotten yourself locked out of History class?" before letting out a jealous scoff. "Man! I wish I could get myself locked out of that class. History blows and Nelson's tests are impossible to pass."

"I knowthat," he replied blankly before going on to stress, "That's why I don't think this is such a good idea! Who knows how long this is going to take."

"Shouldn't take longer than a couple minutes," A shriek called out; both Arnold and Gerald looking around themselves to find the source of the high-pitched voice. Emerging from behind the grouping of unused lockers, a small girl who barely stood at five-feet-tall approached the friends while pushing up her large glasses which were sliding down her nose. "Of course, that's all depending on the make, model… year."

"Oh, uh…" Arnold stuttered while fishing out the phone from his pocket once more and holding it out for the unassuming girl in front of him. "I don't know. It's just a phone. I think it's like mine… so—"

"Hold up," Gerald interrupted as the girl took Helga's phone from Arnold's hand to begin inspecting it. "You mean to tell me that you're 'The Giant?' The school's best hacker AND Ralphio's seventeen year old cousin?"

"Wait, who's Ralphio?" Arnold questioned, though his inquiry was lost in the girl's answer.

"All that you need to know, Gerald Martin Johanssen," the girl called him by his full name which immediately made him flinch with frightening surprise, "is that I can do exactly what you're looking for and I can do it for a small, minimal, and inconsequential fee."

"If you're looking for money, we don't have any, so—" Arnold began to tell her, though 'The Giant' was quick to dismiss him.

"I'm not interested in money," she stated before looking between the both of them. "I'm far more interested in secrets."

"Secrets?" the teenage boys repeated in unison as 'The Giant' nodded her head while gently tapping the back of Helga's phone against her hand.

"There's nothing more elusive than a good secret," she explained with a mischievous smirk. "And, as a hacker, secrets are a large part of my work. So. What secret do you have for me? One secret for one code, that's the rules."

Gerald and Arnold exchanged a look for a moment before the blonde softly muttered, "Gerald… I don't know if this is worth it."

"C'mon, man! Don't you want to know about the inner workings of Helga's mind?" He whispered back as though the girl ahead of them wasn't actively listening to their every word. "What happened to the bold kid running through the jungle to save his parents or fighting the man to save the neighborhood? Huh? Where's that guy, right now?"

"It just seems… wrong," Arnold replied while reaching up to rub at the back of his neck and stealing a glance at 'The Giant' who looked on in curiosity. "I don't think I should break into Helga's private property."

"Arnold," Gerald stated blankly. "You and I both know that she's probably doing this exact thing to your phone right this minute. I'll bet you twenty bucks that she's standing in the hallway, talking to Phoebe and trying to guess your passcode so she can look at whatever secrets you've got hiding in there."

He thought this over while trying to imagine what Gerald had so precisely described for him.

"And you know what?" he went on to say, Arnold's eyes shooting back over to his friend as he continued. "With how smart Helga is… I would also bet that she doesn't even need a secrets-dealing hacker to do it either."

As Arnold considered Gerald's point, across the school and downstairs in the 600 wing Helga was staring down at the locked screen of the phone she'd mistakenly grabbed nearly an hour ago. "Stupid football-head losing his phone…" she muttered before huffing out a deep breath and dropping her arm while still holding the cellphone tightly in her grip. With exasperation, she rested her head against the metal of the lockers she leaned against while waiting for Phoebe to finish grabbing her books for their next class.

"I'm going to need a hacker if I ever want to get into Arnold's phone."

"Helga!" Phoebe scolded before shutting her locker with the appropriate book she needed in her grasp. "You can't break into Arnold's phone. It's his personal property."

"So what?"

Phoebe frowned while knitting her brows together in an expression of great concern towards Helga's judgement. "It would violate his privacy."

Helga remained in control of her tone as she brushed off the objection. "He's not going to find out. This is Arnold we're talking about, here. The kid barely knew I existed up until that nonsense on the roof of the FTi building."

"I'm not so sure that I would agree with that, Helga, but to break into Arnold's phone is another issue of which I wholeheartedly disapprove." She shook her head more to herself than to Helga before softly squeaking out, "What about his trust?"

"What about his trust?" Helga repeated while emphasizing a different part of the sentence entirely which gave it a distinctly sour aftertaste.

With a tired sigh, Phoebe said plainly, "Mutual trust is something that, once broken, is nearly impossible to repair. Suppose that Arnold didn't find out right away. Helga, I know you are smart enough to realize that Arnold would discover it eventually. It could hinder your relationship should you already be engaged in one, or… think of the damage an exposed secret of that magnitude could have on a potential relationship between the two of you. Is that something you're willing to sacrifice so you can snoop through his phone and perhaps find nothing of significance?"

Groaning at Phoebe's opinion on the matter, Helga shot her a hopeful, yet irritated look. "You could get me in though," she stated rather than asked. At Phoebe's lack of response, Helga went on. "Arnold's phone. Hypothetically speaking… you could hack into it. Am I right?"

Chewing over Helga's assumption, she decided to hint rather than answer. "Possibly."

"And you really won't help me out with this?" Helga begged yet again, an ace hiding up her sleeve as she spoke. "You'd really make me sit in the library and skip my next class, OUR next class that WE SHARE together? Hmm?"

Trying to walk away from Helga as she grew more and more persistent, Phoebe couldn't escape her longer strides that allowed her to catch up with ease. Just within reach, Helga called out as they walked, "You want me to have to watch some long parade of videos which frustrate me SO BADLY that I end up going back to you and EXPLODING like some kind of wild ape?"

"Helga, please," Phoebe ordered from over her shoulder. She was angry at how right Helga was. Maybe it would be the smart thing to skip what was implied and simply unlock the phone. At least by doing that, Helga would leave her alone with all of this nonsense.

As she thought this over with each step she took, Phoebe continued to listen while Helga kept painting the grim tale of her eventual compliance. "Picture it. There you are. You're right there in the middle of the hallway while I'm bugging you even worse than I am now. And what do you do, Phoebe?" Helga moved from talking to one side in lieu of the other. "What can you do when I'm just jib-jabbin' away like a bird on your shoulder squawking and pecking at you as I chirp, 'Help me, Phoebe! Help me! Open the phone and help me!'"

Stopping mid-stride, Phoebe pivoted around to face Helga with an angry albeit bored expression dusted over her features.

As if silently telling her to continue, Helga took the imaginary cue and began speaking to the dark-haired girl with a mock sympathy so sweet, it could cause cavities. "I'll tell you what you do, Pheebs. You, being the kind-hearted, good, and true-blue friend that you are… you give in. And I'm sorry, but you know you will, I'm not wrong, am I?"

Phoebe knew she was right. Phoebe also knew that it didn't matter. Helga would find a way regardless of her assistance or not. Helga herself went on to express her exact thoughts, but with her own words. "The only person I know better than me… is you."

Catching the glare that was sent her way, Helga soon held her hands up in defense. "It's not a bad thing, I mean, criminy! I'm pretty predictable too, we both know that."

"I guess so…" Phoebe quietly agreed, and Helga swooped in to play her final card—the ace she'd been saving for this very moment.

"Look. Phoebe," the teen began before giving her friend an exaggerated shrug. "I'm just trying to give you a shortcut here-a one-way ticket to jump you and I to the end of this headache."

"But Helga—" she tried to stand her ground, the foundation feeling flimsy beneath her weight as she began to faulter under Helga's towering presence.

"Please, Pheebs? I'm so, so close here and if you do it now, you'll save us both a stupid-long process," She paused for dramatic effect while holding out her one hand as though using it to weigh the choices she was presenting, "OR, we can give it a go and do this pointless dance which, worst case scenario, you still don't help me and I just go reach out to the depths of the 100 wing and hire someone to do it for me."

Phoebe eyed the pleading young woman who stood before her. She didn't want to give in to Helga's cries for help, but she knew in her heart of hearts that by refusing to help, she was merely prolonging the inevitable. What were the ethical ramifications of denying her friend and forcing her to find another way? Could the method that Helga ultimately finds lead to something far worse than imagined? Worse yet than any threat the consequences of Phoebe helping right away may pose to the universe?

The scowl on Phoebe's delicate face hardened as she prepared to hold her stance. "Helga, I'm sorry, but I must refuse to parti—"

"Wait, hang on a sec, Pheebs," Helga stopped her from finishing as she held out Arnold's phone to look down at the bright screen. "Arnold just got a text message," she reported flatly, and Phoebe arched her brow.

Without thinking, she blurted out, "From who?"

Flipping the phone so the screen could face her four-eyed friend, Helga replied, "From me."

----------------------

"I can't believe you told her about the dress-up thing," Arnold noted with a small smirk. "Honestly, I'd forgotten about it."

"As you rightfully should have," Gerald countered with a lone shake of his head. "I mean, we looked fabulous—"

"Right?!" the blonde agreed with excitement before toning down his demeanor. "But, you know… not everybody needs to know about it."

"I just hope that those pictures never see the light of day… ever." The two shuddered at the thought, though Arnold maintained his for a few seconds longer. Turning to look his way with worry, Gerald crossed his arms over his chest before saying, "You don't happen to have copies of those pictures on your phone, now do you, Arnold?"

Swallowing hard, he merely grimaced while managing, "Well…"

"Arnold!" Gerald shouted while throwing his arms up into the air. "Come on, man! That was like… our secret! We don't need to advertise that little experiment."

"It wasn't that bad," Arnold insisted.

"We put on make-up."

"And it looked good,"

"I know that, okay?" Gerald stage-whispered back to his unphased partner-in-crime. "Don't you think I know we looked great? It was disturbing."

"Eh," he sounded while tilting his head back and forth to weigh out his answer before speaking. "I thought it was interesting. Kind of cool, actually. You really didn't think it was fun?"

"Sure, but I'm not admitting that!"

"You might have to, now," Arnold teased while receiving the other end of an intense glare. "Why be ashamed when we looked so good?"

"Because it was last month that we did that," Gerald explained while using his hands to wildly gesture about himself. "Maybe if we were six it would be cute but we're almost sixteen now and—"

"And we put on dresses that we found in the crawlspace at the boarding house," Arnold continued to say as Gerald desperately tried to hush him without success, "and then Grandma gave us her make-up which we then used to—"

"Arnold…"

"—make ourselves, as you even described with your own words—"

"C'mon!"

"—as 'fabulous.' We were fabulous and we were wearing dresses with make-up on. What's the worst that could happen?" He patiently waited for an answer that never came. After a moment, he gave Gerald an answer of his own. "The worst that happens is Helga finds them, or 'The Giant' leaks them and then everyone can be jealous at how good we looked. I'm not ashamed."

Slowly shaking his head back and forth, Gerald watched Arnold while humming his usual song. "Mm mm MM. Arnold, I've said it once, and I'll say it again—"

"I'm a bold kid?" Arnold offered, though it wasn't what had been on his counterpart's mind.

"Nah, we established that a while ago," He said before handing over Helga's phone which he'd been holding since 'The Giant' had returned it to us opened and free from a passcode. "What I was going to say was that this is your dad's fault." Waving a hand over where Arnold stood, he continued while contorting his mouth into a twisted sneer. "All of this? I blame Miles. Dude has no shame and neither do you."

Taking the unlocked phone and easily swiping his way to the 'messages' menu, Arnold let out a single laugh. "I may have no shame about wearing a dress, but I have plenty of other kinds of shame, and those are thanks to myself."

Opening his mouth to argue, Gerald stopped when he saw his friend's fingers begin tapping away on the screen. "What are… what are you doing?"

"I'm texting Helga," he responded, then paused to look up and out thoughtfully while musing to himself, "Well, I guess I'm texting me, but, you know…" Arnold's voice trailed off as his attention returned to the message he had been feverishly typing.

"Why?" Gerald asked. "I thought we were going to explore the inner workings of Helga G. Pataki's mind!"

"Maybe that's what you would do," Arnold retorted before hitting the send button and lowering the phone altogether. "I told myself that the only way I would go through with this was that when the phone was unlocked, I would text Helga so we could arrange a switch. That's all."

"Okay, so what did you text her?"

Helga:

I know you have my phone, Helga. And I know you're probably reading this right now. Guess I'll find out in a minute when the 'read' receipt comes back.

"Would you look at that," Helga remarked, "he just has me labeled by my first name in here. The only other contact like that is Gerald's. And his parents, I guess."

"You already looked through his contacts?" Phoebe asked while looking over at the screen she'd helped to unlock.

"Doi," was all she said before beginning her own message to send back to the name she recognized as her own. All the while, she imagined Arnold receiving her text and smiling that dopey grin at the words she'd carefully typed.

Footballhead:

Took you long enough to get into my phone. Geez, Arnoldo. I take it your giant-head didn't come with an equally giant-in-size and freakishly-shaped brain, now did it?

"That Helga," Gerald commented while looking over Arnold's shoulder as he began wording his reply. "Always the clever one, isn't she."

"Always," Arnold affirmed before tapping send once again; the two-minute warning bell resounding through the 100 wing that the two still lingered in.

Helga:

No such luck, I'm afraid. But how do I know that you unlocked MY phone before I unlocked yours? After all, it was ME who texted YOU.

DING. DING. DING. DING.

"Two minutes," Helga noted while looking up to the air above her as if the noise had come out of the atmosphere rather than the speakers in the hallway. "We don't have to switch back yet…"

"Why wouldn't you want to get your phone back? I thought you didn't want Arnold looking through your things."

Helga's fingers danced across the keyboard of the screen as her body instinctively began walking towards the destination of her next class. "Because, Pheebs, he's already in," she clarified before hitting 'send' and sliding the phone safely into the pocket of her sweatshirt. "Now, we're just playing a little game."

"And where does that game end?" Phoebe probed as they took off down the hallway towards the end of the wing where the science rooms were located.

"I'm not sure yet," she responded just as they passed the threshold of their biology classroom. "Probably in us switching our phones back and going our merry way. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Footballhead:

You may have texted me first, Hair Boy, but that doesn't mean I didn't have PLENTY of time to peruse your contact list, messages, emails, and of course, your many, MANY pictures.

Both Gerald and Arnold widened their eyes at the message that stared back at them from the bright light of Helga's phone.

"So, that's it," Gerald stated in defeat. "We're officially screwed."

"She's bluffing," Arnold immediately announced before zealously concocting his next message. "If she got into my phone, she got into it because of Phoebe, right?"

"Probably, yeah. Why?"

"If she got in because of her," he theorized, "then that means she's with Phoebe."

"So?"

"So," Arnold reiterated, "there is no way that she would let Helga go through my all of my stuff while she's still around." Clicking 'send' with a light tap of his fingertip, he added, "I think I can keep her distracted through the next couple hours until school is over."

"Why wait until school's done?" his childhood companion wondered. "You two can switch phones back after this period is over, no harm, no fowl! Why wouldn't you do it right away?"

"Because," his words were slick with amusement at the question, "I'm kind of enjoying this."

"Enjoying it? What are you, crazy, Arnold?!" Gerald practically shouted as they started on their way to the period that they may be late to after all, though Arnold hardly seemed to care anymore, despite the constant warning from his friend. "You're playing with fire, man!"

"Not fire, Gerald… only Helga."

"Which is worse," he argued; Arnold instantaneously disagreeing.

"It's all going to be fine, Gerald, I promise," he tried to reassure with a confident upturn of his lips and a light pat on the back. "Trust me."

And so began the exchange of a century.

----------------------

Helga:

I don't have anything to hide, Helga. If you want to go hunting through my phone for some kind of blackmail-material, you won't find anything.

She stared at the words of Arnold's latest message that shone from under the table she sat at in the back corner of her biology class.

Footballhead:

Who's to say that I haven't already FOUND all of your dirty little secrets and am currently planning to expose you for the weird, football-faced dingus that you are?

Arnold suppressed a laugh before replying while typing with one hand at his side and out of his teacher's sight.

Helga:

I have nothing to be ashamed of that you can find on that phone, Helga. The things I'm ashamed of are words that were never said and feelings I never acted on.

Mouth agape, Helga fought the urge to let out a loud gasp in reaction to the words Arnold had so boldly sent across the airwaves.

Footballhead:

And what words and feelings might those be, exactly?

A half-smile curled up at the corner of Arnold's mouth. This was his chance to use an inconvenience as a blessing—a way to reach out to Helga by using the only means that she seemed to understand: written word.

Helga:

You know.

"Two words?" Helga muttered to herself as she finally was able to read the message that she'd had to ignore for nearly thirty minutes to do some lame science experiment. The bell would ring any minute and she would be free to roam the halls with Arnold's phone still in tow.

Footballhead:

Why no, genius, I DON'T know. Why don't you and your dumb head enlighten me?

Walking slowly out of his class at the bell's chime, Arnold seized his moment in the back and forth he'd been enjoying—a back and forth that he knew Helga was enjoying, too.

Helga:

I guess I could do that. Only on one condition, though.

Footballhead:

Name your price.

Helga watched the bubble on the message screen appear and disappear rapidly as Arnold worked out the perfect reply. Her hands sweating, Arnold's phone became slippery no matter how tightly she held onto it, and she waited with bated breath until his message at last appeared on the screen.

Helga:

Slausen's. Today, after school. You can even order whatever you want.

It was Arnold's turn to wait anxiously as Helga typed her reply, though she didn't make him wait quite as long for a response.

Footballhead:

And what is it that YOU happen to be getting out of this little, late-afternoon ice cream social? Besides your phone, that is.

Trying to hide his growing smile, Arnold knew exactly what it was he wanted to say next.

Helga:

I get the chance at trapping you in an honest conversation with the bait of free food. You get to eat, and I get to tell you how I feel and HAVE felt since that Summer of 6th grade when we grew apart.

Chewing on her lip, Helga debated her next choice of words before sending one more question that she knew she wouldn't be getting an answer for. At least not by way of text.

Even so, she knew that she had to try.

Footballhead:

Just how was it that we grew apart? Why DID you stop talking to me? Did I scare you off?

Sighing at the words he knew Helga had struggled to successfully send, Arnold decided to give her just enough information that it would only make her want more.

Helga:

Absolutely not. It was ME who scared MYSELF off. I chickened out.

Intrigued by his vague explanation, Helga wasted no time in answering.

Footballhead:

Why?

The one word that Helga had sent brought butterflies along with it. They gathered inside of Arnold's stomach to flurry and flutter in circles as he sent her what he hoped would be an invite she would finally accept.

Helga:

Meet me at Slausen's after school and I'll tell you.

Before she could tell him that she was interested in his proposition, another message popped up on the screen.

Helga:

And make sure you bring my phone. As fun as this has been, we should probably switch back before we go home for the night. What do you say?

The 'typing' bubble didn't have to float for long before Arnold received Helga's reply; the message once again containing only one word.

Footballhead:

Deal.

[language-rxgers]

Four Words (Steve x Reader)

Summary: Steve is simple. Steve is a planner. So why can’t he just say four simple words to the best thing he never planned?

Characters: Steve Rogers, Female Reader, Bucky Barnes

Request from @witch-of-letters​ :

“Can I request a Steve Rogers one-shot, where he wants to propose to Stark!Daughter!Reader? They've been together since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., and after Sokovia, Steve realizes that he can't wait any longer (after the wedding, the R gets pregnant with twin girls). When the Civil War starts, R stays on Steve's side, much to Tony's fear (and chagrin).”

A/N: I’m thinking this will probably be a 3 parter. This chapter is the proposal!

masterlist

part 2

Steve Rogers is a man with a plan. Every morning, he wakes up at 5:30 with the alarm and checks his emails. He then pours himself a cup of black coffee in the kitchen while reading the morning paper and going over his schedule for the day. At 6:00 he returns to the bedroom to wake you up after your half hour sleep-in, and lovingly drags you back to the kitchen where the two of you prepare breakfast and Steve relays to you the morning news. Of course, you could read the damn paper yourself, but it sounds so much more interesting coming out of his mouth. After breakfast, you both get dressed and ready for the day. Day in, day out, Steve knows every step of the domestic part of his life to a T. In a job where you go in without the slightest idea what might happen in the day, it’s nice to have even a morning’s worth of stability, if that. So yeah, Steve Rogers is a man with a plan, simple. Simple. So why is it so hard to add one teeny, tiny, simple step to his routine? For chrissake, it’s just a four-word, yes or no question. 

“Will you marry me?” 

The young man gazed up with hope glimmering in his eyes, sunlight sparkling off the golden band clutched between his fingertips. His partner’s mouth dropped open in shock and surprise before reality caught up to him, and his answer tumbled out of his lips. “Yes- yeah, yes, of course!” He stood from the park bench that the couple had been sitting on as his now fiancé rose from his knees to meet him in a tight hug. Steve felt a spread of warmth in his chest for the happy couple, but also tried to ignore his guilty jealousy of how easy it had seemed for that man to ask the question he himself had been trying to spit out for so long. 

He looked down to you at his side, admired your beautiful wide smile as you watched the newly engaged couple, and he wished with everything in him that the two of you would soon be in their place. 

Steve had met you when you moved in down the hall from him only a few months after he himself had rented a home in the building. At the time, he believed you to be a quiet nurse named Kate, but it wasn’t long before he discovered this to be extremely untrue. It was only two weeks later when you admitted to Steve that you were in fact Y/N Stark, a SHIELD agent sent by Nick Fury to keep an eye on him. Far from a nurse, you actually worked as a field officer, tech specialist and information broker for the law enforcement organization. You were also the daughter of Tony Stark- someone with whom Steve could certainly do without interacting again. Needless to say it was difficult for the soldier to hide his shock, hurt and betrayal, especially since he had already begun to develop feelings for you in the short time he’d known you- or whoever you led him to believe you were. Did this mean you weren’t actually the sweet, selfless girl who had become the reason he looked forward to returning home right after work every day? He knew it had only been a couple of weeks but he already found himself craving your late night hallway interactions and that sweet, warm smile that always seemed to be hiding in your eyes. 

You patiently allowed Steve to come to terms with your revelation, before disclosing that you genuinely did want to be his friend, and felt that lying when he would undoubtedly become suspicious and figure out your true identity eventually was just unnecessary. After the fall of SHIELD, you revealed to Steve that you had been the one to alert Fury of the organisation’s corruption from the beginning after some suspicious encounters with, and inconsistent reports filed by, the STRIKE team, led to a fruitful independent investigation. It was then that you’d been assigned to watch over Steve. 

In the years that followed, you became one of Steve’s closest friends, a beautiful constant in his eternally unstable life. The development of your relationship to something more than friendship was only natural… ish. One day you asked if he would join you for coffee- nothing out of the ordinary for the two of you to do, but this time there was a certain intimation of deeper feelings in your tone. Of course, this subtlety completely went over Steve’s head, and he proceeded to spend the next hour speaking of nothing but the results of your latest mission with you in the corner of the nearest crowded Starbucks. 

The next morning, you corrected your mistake of assuming the most clueless man on Earth when it came to women would pick up on your vibe change, by marching up to him in the kitchen and informing him that you would like for him to accompany you on a date to the movies that evening if he so wished. Taken aback at not only your bluntness but also the fact that you fancied him in return, what was he to do but nod his head and respond with a cheeky “Yes, ma’am.”?

Evidently, one date turned into two, three, four, and so it goes.

After Sokovia, you both became brutally aware of how easily life could change in a split second. Steve realized that he didn’t want to wait anymore to continue his life with you. You were all he wanted, all he could see when he imagined his future. He never thought he would want a family again after coming out of the ice, but with you, it was so easy to picture that. Steve didn’t want that to stay as just a dream when he slept next to you. Now, it was his turn to take the leap, yet he found himself hopelessly lacking the same self-assuredness that had never failed you. 

“Oh, Steve, check the time, we should be heading back.” You tugged at Steve’s sleeve as you stepped to continue your walk back to the car. 

“Huh?” Steve shook his memories back to their storage cabinets and glanced down to his watch. With a start at how much time had passed, he followed you promptly. 

For the rest of the day, Steve couldn’t for the life of him shake that nagging voice in his head, urging him to pop the question on the spot. It was maddening; every time he spoke to you he had to plan what he was going to say so he didn’t accidentally blurt out an impromptu proposal in the middle of the conversation. It was even more annoying because on top of planning his words, he also had to focus on keeping you out of his thoughts. He had always been able to keep his thoughts guarded when he didn’t want you reading him, but he loved that for the most part, you were the one person he wanted in his head. But ever since he started seriously thinking about proposing to you, he’d had to keep himself exceptionally blocked off, which he knew frustrated you.

The most frustrating thing of all, however, was that logically, he knew there was no reason to be so nervous. You had discussed your futures together before- marriage, kids, retirement. You both wanted to be married eventually when the time was right, but you also knew there would never be a right time. Your entire relationship had consisted of playing things by ear and “taking the next step” as it came naturally. Nothing felt more natural than marrying you, nothing felt more right. He knew you would say yes. But there was also that annoying, little punk in his subconscious egging on his insecurities. 

“She’s still free to leave any time without consequences until you tie the knot.” 

“Things are perfect the way they are right now, don’t screw it up by asking her to make the biggest commitment of her life.”

“You can barely work the tv remote, how are you going to navigate a marriage?”

“What if she’s about to break up with you right when you propose?”

Steve stared with wide eyes at the ring in his fingers, overwhelmed with all the reasons he shouldn’t propose. He was pulled from his anxiety by a rap at his door, and looked up to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe.

“Stare any harder and it’ll burst into flames.” Steve put the ring back into its box and let out a sigh.

“Part of me wishes it would. It’s too nice, isn’t it? She won’t like that it’s too flashy.” Bucky scoffed.

“It’s a plain metal band, bud. Don’t think you can get any simpler than that.”

“Well it’s got the infinity twist, might snag her sweaters or something. I don’t know. And there’s a couple diamonds.”

“I don’t think a diamond the size of a crumb is gonna snag any of her damn sweaters. Steve, she’s gonna love it. Quit procrastinating. Sam’s got 100 bucks saying you’re gonna take more than a month to pop the question and I don’t like how cocky he’s been since they upgraded his suit’s wingspan.” Steve exhaled a laugh and shook his head, rubbing his eyes. 

“I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s just a big step, you know? I don’t even have a plan.”

“No plan, just ask.” Bucky quipped. “You and your goddamn plans, I swear I’m gonna rip my hair out. Steve, Y/N’s the simplest person I know. She doesn’t want any of your plans, she doesn’t want you to make a show of it. But she does deserve a little bit of effort. Make her dinner at your place, something she likes, get down on one knee and fucking ask her to marry you. Soon, before she does it first.” Bucky raised his eyebrows to show he was serious. And he was. You would ask Steve to marry you. But you were always the one to make the first move, and it was Steve’s turn. “Tonight, pal. Tonight’s the night. No missions, no meetings. Take advantage of the time you have. Stop putting this off.” Bucky held Steve’s gaze with stern eyes until the lovestruck soldier nodded with gratitude. Satisfied, Bucky stepped back. “Alright, I’ve got some paperwork to not do, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Star Spangled Man with a Plan.”

***

That night, you returned to your and Steve’s floor with curiosity blooming in your chest. All day you had had this… feeling. A phantom expectation, an unwarranted sense of anticipation tingling in your fingertips. You just couldn’t shake this feeling that something was going to happen, and you had no idea if it was good or bad. You’d attribute it to the telepathy, but you hadn’t heard anything suspicious all day. Actually, you did notice one thing. Steve had been unusually guarded lately- you could read people when their guard was down, but if they really didn’t want you to know something, you were as good as powerless. At first you weren’t too concerned; usually after a tough mission, like the ones you had been having pretty regularly of late, Steve would board up like a closed down mine shaft. It was impossible to read him until he let you in, which was the most frustrating thing you’d had to accept when you met him. He was like a brick wall sometimes, and all you wanted to do was break through to help him. But he always came around, in his own time. However, it seemed like lately he always had his guard up.

You arrived to an apartment filled with the homey aroma of spices and cooking meat. Steve was making Y/F/F? Oh, lord, what did he do this time?

You made your way to the kitchen, increasingly suspicious. “Steve? What’s up?” Your boyfriend spun around to face you, oven mitts on and your gingerbread man apron tied around his waist. 

“Hey, I thought I’d make supper tonight. You know, to celebrate the end of the week.” You raised your eyebrows. 

“Um, okay, but why? I’m not complaining, but you haven’t made Y/F/F since you spilled red wine all over my suede jacket.” Steve smiled nervously.

“Right, don’t worry, I didn’t ruin anything else, I don’t think.” You narrowed your eyes. “It’s just been a while since we sat down and had a nice meal together that wasn’t half-hour delivery. You go get changed into your sweats and I’ll finish up.” You shrugged and muttered out an okay before heading to your room.

When you returned, the table was set and Steve was pouring the two of you drinks. He pulled out your chair for you and set the meal on the table before taking a seat himself. As you ate, he asked about your day, as he usually did, and you asked about his. You shared funny work stories about the interns in your department and told Steve about how far you’d gotten in your training session with Wanda to continue controlling your similar powers. Throughout the meal, Steve listened with a gentle smile as you gestured animatedly, admiring the passion in your eyes. By the time your plates were empty the wine was half done, Steve began to feel his nerves building up. He tapped his thumb anxiously on the tabletop as he tried to listen to your story about your father’s latest experiment with a stretchy material for Bruce to wear that wouldn’t rip when he turned into the Hulk. Steve couldn’t believe you were in his life. He couldn’t believe you were here, right now, living with him, in love with him, choosing him. 

“For now, you mean.”

“She’s going to get sick of you eventually, or find someone better.”

“She’ll get tired of you choosing missions over her.”

“You won’t have time to raise kids, you’ll be too busy fighting another battle you sought out.”

“You can’t live without war, what kind of father are you going to be to children, let alone a husband to a wife?”

“You can’t do this, coward.”

“You can’t-”

“Marry me,” Steve breathed out. You halted yourself in the middle of your sentence, leaning forward.

“Sorry, what was that?” Eyes wide and beautiful with curiosity. Steve blinked, unsure if he had even said anything at all. Did he just say that? Out loud? To you? The words fell out so easily despite how much that stupid voice tried to stop him.

But Steve was never one to back down.

“Marry me, Y/N,” he repeated. “Will you?” Your mouth opened slightly to form an O, the breath seemingly knocked from your lungs. You stared blankly at him as you realized what he had asked, and that he expected an answer.

Was this what had been consuming his thoughts lately, what he had fought so hard to keep a secret from you? You felt an exhilarating tingle run from the center of your chest to your fingertips, so strong you clenched your hands into fists to contain your elation. You and Steve had talked about marriage before and you both knew you wanted to be married someday, but you never knew whether Steve would be the one to take that step towards making it a reality. All you understood was that Steve was all you knew in this moment, all you saw, all you felt, all you wanted. It was laughably easy to answer his question.

“Yes.”

part 2

____________________________________________________________

Tag List:

All Works: @the-instrumental-mortal-blog @crazy4thewinbros @palaiasaurus64 @winterboobaerchen @thefridgeismybestie @becauseifuckingcan @libbyjune24 @erisan​ @pitubea1910​ @friendlyneighborhoodnazgul​ @sixweekcure4dreams​ @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass​ @moderapoppins​ @fandomsstolemylife00​ @bookgirlunicorn​ @hottrashformarvel​ @stargeek727​ @fuckthatfeeling​

Steve Rogers: @promarvelfangirl​

[mistergomo-blog]

Terrace

Guardian Angel!Yoongi

Rating: (T)

Word Count: 1810

You weren’t the human he was assigned to watch over, but he still checked in on you night after night

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night.

The day was a rather humid one, especially for the month of May, but it had cooled down to the perfect temperature to stand on the balcony without being suffocated by the hot air.

You were quite jealous of the view your aunt had of the city. Sure, yours wasn’t so bad, but it pales in comparison to a balcony that was a solid 6 floors above your own. The low hum of cars driving by and sirens echoing from a few streets down were more of a white noise than a nuisance from this level.

The lights you and your aunt had set up on the balcony made the mood. You had offered the idea since she’d had the light since Christmas and kept them long over the return date (after helping the poor woman get her cat back into her apartment). Being the ever so gracious woman she was, she offered to buy takeout as a thanks, leaving you to enjoy the comfort of her place as she went out to pick it up. You had offered to go with her, but she insisted on you staying.

“I can handle a few containers of pad Thai by myself,” She quipped. “I also need someone to keep an eye on Nabi.”

The fact that it was around dinner time made you stop and think. Yoongi usually visits you around this time, just to make sure you’re eating (something he won’t let you forget after he saw you fast asleep with your head in a psych textbook). But you weren’t at your own place, which made you wonder if he’d know where you were. With the fact that he was a guardian angel made you think it was plausible he could know where his human was.

But he wasn’t your guardian angel.

You sighed, knowing there was only one way to find out. Carefully, you lean on the balcony rail, knowing in its worn state there was a possibility of it giving out all together. A slight breeze runs through your hair that you realize wasn’t there before.

“Are you trying to avoid me now?”

You don’t bother turning around. There was a faint smile heard in his voice.

“Thought it would work” you grin.

You can hear him taking a few steps to stand at your side. Although painfully aware you could simply glance over your shoulder to look at him, you keep your eyes focused on the view in front of you, buildings and cars alike. You wanted to at least attempt a coherent conversation with him before you became a garbled mess of sounds.

And all because of his goddamn pretty face.

“My aunt’s cat ran away” you voice after a while.

“Nabi? The one with only three whiskers?”

You raise an eyebrow, a small grin growing on your face.

“You’re more observant than I give you credit for.”

“I mean, it’s not like I have anything else to really do.”

You would have shoved him, but you knew you’d just fall through, seeing as he’s essentially a Spector, as he described to you when the boy Yoongi was assigned to watch over, Jungkook, had thrown a baseball at him that shattered the window behind him instead.

‘The only way guardian angels can physically touch people is if they truly feel grounded with that person, or some shit like that.’ Yoongi explained.

So instead, you settle for an eye roll.

“Had to lure that damn thing back with a can a sardines we found in the back of my aunt’s fridge.” You crinkle your nose at the memory.

Yoongi exhales through his nose.

“At least you didn’t have to save a kid’s ass from burning his apartment down” he says dryly.

You snort, knowing very well about the shenanigans poor Jungkook, a boy roughly your age, would encounter on the daily. Yoongi recalled one time he had accidentally turned in a doodle of Steve Buscemi juggling pomegranates on a unicycle instead of his assignment to his art professor.

“I guess we’ve both got new ice breakers under our belts” you muse.

“There’s more where that came from”

You turn your head to look at Yoongi for the first time that evening. You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t leap at the fact he was already looking at you.

The breeze tousled the blonde locks, making you realize how badly you wanted to run your hand through them. His eyes seemed to be looking at you, yet through you at the same time. They were piercing to the point that you wanted, even needed to look away, before you fell in deeper than you already were.

Now you really wanted to shove him.

“How did you know where I was?” The thought slips past your lips before you can process them.

Yoongi’s gaze is still trained on you when his lip curves up the slightest.

“Guardian Angels have this sense of aura or something” he shrugs. “It's how they know where humans are.”

“What’s Jungkook’s like?”

“A shitstorm”

You laugh, expecting an answer as such.

“He’s a college student, it makes sense”

“But yours isn’t like that”

You’re caught off guard a bit by that. Yoongi strolls past you, seeming distracted by something on the rail.

“This plant’s dying” He deadpans.

You turn, seeing Yoongi stare blankly at the potted succulent on your aunt’s rail. A bit distracted, you blink.

“Uh, yeah, my aunt’s not really the best plant keeper”

He seems to frown at that.

“Pity”

He waves his hand, making his way over to the other side of the rail. You notice out of the corner of your eye the plant springing back to life slowly.

“What do I feel like to you?” You ask slowly.

Yoongi shoves his hands into his pockets, staring out at the stars, almost wistfully.

“Grossly cordial.” He says flatly, but there’s no venom behind it. You say nothing, hoping your silence would prod him to go on.

“I could probably sense you miles away. Doing some nice shit for strangers. But the worst part is you do it because you want to. There’s no greed behind your actions. It’s something rather difficult to find these days” he says the last bit rather softly.

He looks over his shoulder, giving you a raised eyebrow, and you could’ve jumped over the rail at that very moment.

“Is that why you keep visiting me?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He appears to ponder the question seriously before shrugging.

“Maybe” he smirks.

Feeling a bit more brave, from either the darkness of the night or distance between you to, you ask another question.

“Is there another reason then?”

Yoongi hums to himself, walking towards you.

“I don’t know. But the fact that you’re cute helps the situation.”

You hope your raised eyebrow distracts him from the flush taking over you face.

“I thought you said looks are material?”

“I’m a materialistic guy”

You roll your eyes at that.

“You’re dumb”

“And you’re absolutely stunning”

You feel your heart forget how to beat for a moment. Slowly, you turn to face him, finding that he was much closer than he was before. The distance between you two was suffocating yet intoxicating at the same time. From here, you could see that his skin was nearly glowing.The breeze continued to tousle his soft locks. If that wasn’t breathtaking enough, his eyes trained only on you. It was all so unfair. It was unfair how pretty he was, how easy spoken he was, and how not real he was.

You could hear the faint noise of a siren in the distance. Glancing over Yoongi’s shoulder, you see an ambulance whir down the street.

“That could be for Jungkook” you say, gathering g your wits. “Maybe he set something on fire again.”

You see his upper lip curl for a nanosecond.

“Maybe. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

The distance between you is unchanging, and Yoongi doesn’t falter. You pray that he can’t feel the heat radiating from your cheeks.

“Maybe you should go check on him” you say it lightly, more to just gain distance between the two of you.

Yoongi still doesn’t let up.

“You know, there’s something else I’d like to do instead.”

His gaze drops from your eyes to your mouth so quickly if you had blinked you would’ve missed it. If you had been braver, you would have leaned in closer, and you would’ve met his gaze with equal fervor.

You lean back on the terrace further.

“I-“

The railing behind you groans, and before you can react, it gives out completely underneath you, unhinging from the wall. Your mouth opens to form a silent scream as your weight leans all the way off of the open terrace, threatening to send you over the edge. Before as much can be done, you grab at the closest thing to you, clutching for dear life, you nails digging into what feels like a suede jacket.

You open your eyes to find yourself clinging to Yoongi.

His arms are wrapped tightly around you, almost so tight your chest hurts, though that could be from your pounding heart. You look up to find him staring at you so intently, he could burn holes in the back of your brain. His breathing is (almost) as ragged as yours, lips parted as his chest rises and falls unevenly. He swallows, grip on you loosening as he guides you away from the gaping hole in your aunt’s terrace. You stand stagnant, yoongi's arms still wrapped around you, and waiting to see what he’d say. He sees how intently you stare at him now, so close your noses brush for just a moment, and he pursed his mouth.

“I should go check on Jungkook.”

In a flash, you feel yourself being released from his hold, and in another, he’s gone.

A cool breeze washes over you skin, through your hair as you feel Yoongi’s presence disintegrate into the air. You stand alone in the center of the terrace, breathing beginning to settle as you take in the events that had just previously happened. You turn around to look at the gaping hole in the railing that no longer exists. Instead, the railing has been reinforced, as if the accident had never taken place.

You look out into the city, cars streaming by in blurs, and you begin to realize how much you missed Yoongi’s touch. But you can’t wait on it for too long, because you hear the front door clicking open, and Nabi mewling loudly as a voice calls out to you signifying your aunts arrival. Instead, you turn around, making your way back into the apartment, but not before sparring a glance at the now lively plant settled on the terrace.

[studiobeebo]

Hello! May i ask for promt 4 from "right to the good parts" list? With Dabi and female so? But if you don't write for villians then Aizawa. Thank you and take care!

ok so i’ve never written for Dabi and I’m honestly still a bit lost on his personality, but @loseridge helped me out a bit so I hope this is alright hjgh (seriously, feedback on this one would be greatly appreciated even if it isn’t from the person who requested it!!)

Prompt: We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair

Dabi

With the rise in the league’s activity over the past few months, ‘security’ got a bit more tight. After Tomura stupidly got himself caught on the news (and yes, you knew it was intentional, but you still thought he was an idiot), the lookout for him and the rest of the league became a much more prominent problem for all of you.

In short, this meant none of you could really roam around as you pleased because soon enough, it wouldn’t just be Tomura who was easily distinguished as a member of the league.

On the other hand, this meant you also had to start searching for a second hand location.

So far, the shitty bar where you had been meeting was serving its purpose of hiding you all well, but apparently Tomura, or whoever was directing him, has told him that the bar wouldn’t last long and that it was time to start searching for a secondary place to stay.

Unfortunately, Tomura seemed to like Dabi the least of you all, however he also had a problem with you and your “entitled bullshit” and he knew that Dabi got on your nerves as well, so he decided to force you to tag along with him on this hunt for a new hideout.

Originally it was just going to be the two of you, no matter how much you protested, but Twice seemed to be bothering Tomura too so he was dumped on you guys as if you were his babysitter.

This news was actually music to your ears as you didn’t really mind Twice since he was pretty dorky, and having anyone would be better than being stuck with Dabi’s snide remarks or him just straight up ignoring you. Dabi on the other hand wasn’t all that happy, but he seemed to hate anything that wasn’t a fun-sucking mopheaded downer such as himself.

The three of you had been given a list of a few places to stake out and you spent a majority of the day looking at the ones that Tomura didn’t have as much knowledge about compared to the last one which was apparently previously used by whoever was in charge, so you were planning to stay the night there and see how it was on space, electricity, running water, etc.

Once you finished up with the rest of the locations, you were more than excited to be able to wind down in what you were hoping would have been a secure but cozy place. You were very mistaken.

This underground bunker looked and smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned in years and there was dust and dirt covering every inch of the place. The electricity technically worked, but the lights flickered so much it gave you a headache and you spent ten minutes arguing with Dabi to get him to let you turn the damn things off. You were pretty sure the flickering was bothering him too, but he took every chance he got to be difficult with you.

You didn’t know why, maybe it was just how he was as a person, but ever since the two of you had met it felt like he was some obnoxious ex-boyfriend that you had never even dated. He was rude and had a very annoying “whatever, I’m gonna act like a broody teenager” attitude and he always picked little fights with you. Because of this, you should have known spending a night with him anywhere would have been a pain in the ass despite having Twice there to act as a buffer, but when you explored this crappy bunker even more, things only got worse.

The first thing you discovered was the absolutely nasty excuse for a bathroom. The second, and far worse thing, was the fact that there were only two beds. Before you even had a chance to groan out a comment about how grody they were, Twice had already plopped himself down on the “nicest” of the two and Dabi followed suit on the other.

“Seriously guys?!”

“Is that a rhetorical question or are you just complaining again?”

Dabi’s snarky remark only made you huff out in annoyance and when you looked to Twice with the most adorable pout you could muster in an attempt to get him to let you have the bed he had chosen, he only turned away from you and whistled innocently as if he had done nothing wrong.

“Fine. But the second one of you so much as gets up to take a piss, I am taking one of those beds.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

The fact that Dabi was treating you like some snobby brat just for wanting a goddamn bed to sleep on just pissed you off even more, so you left to mind your own business, but not before flipping him off.

You were more than grateful to find out that, somehow, there was a decent internet connection so you spent the rest of your evening playing mindless games or just browsing the news for information on, well, yourself.

Eventually you did start to get tired though and it seemed you were the only one to come prepared with a toothbrush and a pair of shorts to sleep in. It took a while to get over the nasty taste of the questionable water that came from the taps in this place, but eventually you had gotten yourself all ready for bed only to be hit with the sad reminder that you would be sleeping on the cement ground.

You really wished you had packed a blanket or something you could use to lay on, and when you were grumbling to yourself about wishing you had brought a jacket, you were reminded that someone here did have a jacket that was plenty long enough for you to either sleep on or use as a blanket.

“Hey matchbox.” You rudely interrupted, though Dabi had also resorted to scrolling through his phone so you were sure you hadn’t interrupted anything important, and even if you had, you didn’t really care. “Let me have your coat.”

“No.”

To be honest, you were expecting that answer, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating considering the damn thing had been haphazardly thrown into a corner so he wasn’t even using it.

“Well why the fuck not? You’re that much of a jackass that you’re going to make me sleep on the floor and not even lend me something to sleep on that you aren’t even using? Grow up, Dabi.”

Your attitude and resilience caught his attention as, admittedly, it always had, but he’d never give you the satisfaction of knowing that you were…entertaining to him, in the least.

“I’m not making you sleep anywhere, Princess, you could sleep on this piece of garbage with me and I wouldn’t give two shits as long as you shut up and stay quiet.”

This time, his answer had surprised you as you always assumed from how he treated you that being within ten feet of you was like some sort of hazard, so to test your luck and see if he’d chicken out, you decided to do just what he had suggested.

“Fine, move over, asshole.”

There was a slight glint of surprise in his eyes and you were so ready to start getting on him about being a pussy about it, but that surprise vanished as soon as it had arrived and he rolled over with little hesitation.

Getting into bed with your ‘enemy’ was…a bit more awkward than you had originally thought it would be and the bed was smaller than you had thought too, but once you had settled in and grabbed your share of the ratty old blanket, you had a good foot of space in between the two of you so it wasn’t too terrible, plus he was facing away from you so you wouldn’t have to awkwardly avoid eye contact until you fell asleep.

“If I wake up with your hands on me, I’m calling the cops.” You grumbled before closing your eyes, but the deep chuckle you had earned in response to your lame attempt at a joke actually made you crack a smile as well before slowly falling away into your dreams.

As always, Dabi had gone the night with rather blank ‘dreams’ and he remembered getting up once because the sound of your chattering teeth had awoken him, but he couldn’t remember what he got up for. Unfortunately he woke up before both you and Twice, but he was surprised to turn around and find you still fast asleep considering how loudly Twice was snoring in the opposite corner of the room.

It was strange how upon waking up and remembering where he was, he almost impulsively turned to see if you were still there.

He told himself he was just checking to see if you had fallen off or anything, but that didn’t explain why he couldn’t turn back around and go back to sleep as his eyes lingered on your features.

You..looked like a mess with knotted hair and bags under your eyes along with what looked like dried drool on the corner of your mouth, so why couldn’t he tear his eyes away from you? There wasn’t even any glorious sunlight bathing you like in those obnoxious movies Toga always played, just the flickering lights from off in the hallway that had turned on by themselves overnight, and yet seeing you in such a way filled him with a weird feeling like he had an itch buried deep within his chest that he couldn’t scratch.

His frustrations with said feelings had distracted him enough that, despite literally staring at your face, he didn’t noticed your eyes flicker open until you gasped and moved back a bit, only stopping when your hand slipped off the bed and you realized if you moved back anymore, you’d be on the floor.

If this were any other situation, he would have laughed at you almost falling flat on your face, but the feeling of his heart racing despite the rest of him feeling calm as usual told him that, for some reason, he was panicking.

“What the hell, Dabi?! It’s creepy as fuck to wake up to you staring at me like that!” You whisper shouted in his face since you didn’t know if Twice was awake yet or not, though that didn’t explain the heat that was currently rising to your cheeks against your wishes.

“I thought you were dead.”

His weird response only made you give him yet another ‘What the fuck’ face, but he simple shrugged before sitting up and stretching his arms. You could have sworn that seconds ago, he had been looking at you in a way he never had before, though when that snobby smirk appeared on his face when he turned to face you, you were sure you must have been seeing things.

“You’re stupid, not def. You look gross so I assumed you were dead. Guess I got my hopes up too soon.” He sneered before standing up and walking over to kick at Twice’s bed until he woke up.

“Ha-ha, very fucking funny..” You muttered under your breath. You’d be lying if you told yourself that you weren’t disappointed in the fact that he wasn’t actually looking at you like he didn’t hate your guts for once, but those pesky feelings would only get in the way so you simply shook your head and stood up yourself.

When you did stand up, you were surprised to see Dabi’s jacket tumble to the ground after you. Had you taken it over night? You didn’t remember doing so, and you’d never sleep walked before, but the only thing you could think of was that you got cold and self consciously grabbed his jacket before going back to sleep. That, or…

“Let’s go. I’m tired of this shithole.” The grumpy voice of none other than the man in question rang out as he nonchalantly bent over to pick his jacket up from your feet before shrugging it onto his shoulders and leaving the room, not once making eye contact with you as he remembered what he had gotten up for that night. You never would have guessed it, but maybe he wasn’t as big of an asshole as you had originally thought…Either way, only time would tell, so with an awkwardly giddy little smile playing on your lips, you nodded and stretched, ready to start your day and get back to work after a surprisingly nice night of sleep.

[artificialqueens]

Star Power Over Me - Part Five (Vixie/Trixya) - Pilandok

AN: Hello, sorry for the holdup ‘twas a little burnt out. This is a little longer, to make up for it, sorta, hahaha. Thank you for the reviews, it made me giddy, admittedly. I trudged to write this chapter. My girlfriend said the chapter should be called “Come Thru” hahahaha, what a cute. Real talk, this is coming to an end�� the next chapter should be the last then an epilogue, maybe. For this chapter, I regret not being able to cameo Violet’s cat. Though, catch the Some Like It Hot reference. Pearl is also here. Anyway, thank you for waiting and thank you for reading! Part One. Two. Three. Four.

“So, I hear you’re a homewrecker now, Miss Violet Chachki. And to our power couple, no less.”

“Shut up bitch.”

Violet presses his palms against his eyelids trying to wipe away whatever sleep is left in his system. He’s not surprised that Pearl already heard about what happened that night. News travels fast in their world, and faster than a flight from LA to New York then to Atlanta, apparently.

“So,” Pearl starts drawing out his vowels, “Trixie Mattel…”

It’s too early for this, Violet thinks, wondering how he managed to let Pearl convince him to get up before noon for a coffee date. He groans and rests his head on the table. He doesn’t know how to begin explaining it to Pearl. He doesn’t even know how to explain all this to himself. After he left the bar that night he jumped into another one and drunk himself silly only to wake up the next day to his manager rushing him to a photoshoot. After that it was off to another state for a gig, then some arrangements to attend to about his calendar, then to a fashion show here, then another one there. He doesn’t have the time to think about it, he swears, and coached himself to put aside thoughts that are distracting him from his job.

He pretends that it works. He pretends that he doesn’t have the image of Trixie and Katya embracing burned at the back of his eyelids, their forms huddled into one shaking mass of vulnerability and security. He pretends that he hasn’t noticed himself flinching slightly when the song he’s lip-syncing contains the L word.

“You can’t—you can’t say those things to me, Katya, not when it’s always been you. You don’t know how it was for me!” Trixie sobs. Violet’s nails dig into his palms, he wants to look up but at the same time he doesn’t want to be there, he doesn’t want to be part of this moment. “I love you Katya, I’ve always loved you.”

Violet groans again, out of frustration, trying to block the image out of his head, trying to drown out the words Trixie said.

He hasn’t been aware that the people around him have been catching him staring off into space, eyes glued onto an invisible screen as if he’s replaying a scene in his head. They see him wrinkle his brows and clench his teeth like he’s seeing something he doesn’t want to see.

“Is it because of this?” Pearl snaps him out of his daydream. Violet looks up and sees Pearl scrolling through his phone. He reads, “Trixie Mattel snores when he sleeps…”

Violet quickly snatches the phone from Pearl.

“Why do you guys keep— seriously, fuck,” Violet huffs and glares at him. Pearl, like most of Violet’s friends, isn’t deterred by this anymore. He shrugs innocently. Violet should have deleted that stupid note.

“I didn’t know he snores,” Pearl comments.

A sudden warm feeling fills Violet’s stomach after hearing that. He knows that Pearl is watching him carefully for his reaction but he can’t help the small smile that curls on his lips.

Pearl raises his eyebrows, amused.

“I know, I know, cunt,” Violet rolls his eyes, “I have this absolutely ridiculous, embarrassing crush on Tracy.”

“Mm,” Pearl says nonchalantly.

“What, bitch?”

“Seriously girl?” Pearls asks, shaking his head. “You have a crush on me, you have a crush on Raja, you have a crush on Katya for fuck’s sake. This,” Pearls gestures vaguely at Violet’s phone, “is looking like something else.”

“Since when were you so concerned, bitch?” Violet scowls. He knows that Pearl is right but the thought makes him nervous.

Pearl hums noncommitantly.

Violet is quiet for a few minutes before making an attempt to explain the situation. He finds that as he tells the story, it’s difficult to comprehend the logic of his feelings. It’s like they’ve sprung up too quickly, as if they’ve always been there. At loss for words, he merely reiterates what he had told Katya a few weeks before: it’s emotional and whatever.

“Hm,” Pearl nods slowly, appearing uninterested as usual, “Why don’t you just be in a happy threesome with the both of them? I mean, you’ve fucked them both, right?”

“I don’t—” Violet answers too quickly. Pearl raises his eyebrows again. “I don’t like Katya like that.”

“Like how?” Pearl asks indifferently, but a tiny twitch at the corner of his lips betrays his mood. Violet realizes that Pearl has been teasing him and in turn, he keeps falling for his ploys.

“Shut up bitch,” Violet says again.

Pearl rolls his eyes good-humoredly but decides not to push. He busies himself with the drink he ordered and whatever was on his phone. Violet stares at him for a while and it strikes him that he’s surprisingly thankful for Pearl’s concern, no matter how downplayed. And with Pearl’s subliminal urging, Violet allows himself to contemplate on the things that have happened. Soon enough, he’s circling around the things Trixie said.

“My feelings for you are so immense and so ridiculous, Katya, and for the longest time I thought they were irrepressible. I felt like it was threatening to spill all the goddamn time then I’ll frighten you and you won’t look at me the same. But I did it, I kept it in, I had to, and I thought it was going to be like that forever. But when I was with Violet it was great and—” Trixie cuts herself off. Violet feels his heart stop when Trixie says his name. He hears Trixie take a deep breath before continuing, “And for once, maybe, I felt like I was getting over that.”

Violet had wanted to go over to Trixie right then and there. He wanted to go over and just… touch her or kiss her or something. But Trixie wasn’t looking at him at that moment, she was looking at Katya. At the same time, Katya was looking at Violet, and he was absolutely petrified. Violet wonders if Katya’s expression at that moment was complementing his own.

“Hey Vi, your phone’s ringing.”

“Mm?” Violet hummed distractedly, caught up in his thoughts.

“Your phone, bitch,” Pearl stressed.

Violet looks down and sees his phone ringing loudly, the vibrations causing it to glide slowly across the table. His manager’s name is flashing across the screen. Violet fumbles a little in picking up the phone.

Pearl wonders if he’s ever seen Violet this flustered. Not just in this current moment; Violet has been thrown off balance by this whole situation. Pearl still sees Trixie and Katya together all the time and he supposes that Violet has gotten the raw end of the deal. Trixie and Katya, he thinks, are experts in turning emotional adversary into their favor. The characters they’ve created both stem from dark places in their lives, and really, they’re not even characters. It’s just Trixie and Katya being themselves, transforming pain into their art. Which they seem to be doing now. They’re not the ones wandering about on stage distractedly or missing a line or two during a lip sync.

Pearl thinks that Violet injures like a feral cat.

He sighs and scrolls through his contacts.

TO: Trix

girl, you have to talk to violet

A few seconds later, a reply comes.

FROM: Trix

I’ve been trying.

TO: Trix

try harder bitch

Pearl bites his lips, always hesitant about going out of his way to involve himself with other people’s business. But he has seen the rings under Violet’s eyes and sends another message.

i don’t like seeing him like this. i don’t like hearing about you and Katya having a hard time, too.

FROM: Trix

You’re with violet?

Then almost immediately, another text came as if to remove focus from Trixie’s previous one:

Oh wow it must be serious if you’re so concerned.

Pearl doesn’t appreciate Trixie’s attempt at humor but knows that this is how he copes with things.

TO: Trix

it is.

The reply takes longer this time.

FROM: Trix

Okay, I’ll call him.

Pearl puts his phone down as soon as Violet ends his call. He looks even more distressed than he did earlier. Pearl opens his mouth to comment but decides against it. They exchange their goodbyes soon after and go their separate ways.

It was only when Pearl was nearing the airport that his phone vibrates again in his pocket.

FROM: Trix

Thank you.

——

                 It was around midnight when Violet answers the call.

                 “Violet,” Trixie breathes, sounding relieved that he answered, “I’ve been trying to reach you the whole day.”

                 “I know,” Violet tries to respond bitingly although his heart had been jumping to twice its normal rate whenever he saw Trixie’s name flash across his phone screen. He couldn’t bring himself to pick up, however, for reasons he can’t call anything other than childishness. Pearl was right, Violet hurts like a wounded cat.

                 “I’m sorry Vi, I know I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve talked to you that night,” Trixie rushes, “but the next thing I knew, you were gone and then the other queens said you left…” he trails off, making Violet’s stomach churn thinking about how those eavesdroppers could have described his inelegant departure to Trixie. “But that isn’t—sorry. I’m sorry.”

                 “I know,” Violet says again, with a little less sharpness in his tone.

                 The line is quiet for a while, on both sides, and Violet relishes a little on the emanating discomfort coming from the phone. He can imagine Trixie biting his lips and rubbing the back of his head like he does when he’s nervous.

There’s something unexpectedly boyish about Trixie’s charms, and it’s something that Violet is aware he’s been falling for too easily.

                 “I have your calendar,” Trixie blurts out suddenly, “the new one. It uh—you look great. Beautiful.”

                 Violet makes a surprised noise but obviously pleased, “What, how? It hasn’t come out yet.”

                 “I wanted to see you,” Trixie answers plainly although Violet hears a slight mischievous tone on Trixie’s voice.

Violet laughs, impressed. This seems to ease Trixie’s apprehension.

“I missed you,” Trixie says too easily.

                 Violet smiles, feels himself slipping again.

                 “I missed you too, bitch.”

                 They fall into an inconsistent rhythm of conversation—with lighthearted discussions of isolated topics interspaced by long stretches of comfortable silences. Violet settles himself in his bed, appreciating the fact that he’s finally able to lie down on his own bed after weeks of hectic scheduling. He listens to Trixie shuffling about on the other side of the call and feels a tenderness swell inside him. Violet can imagine Trixie laying down on his own bed in a room that Violet is missing too. He sees it: the pink walls, the graphic paintings hanging on the wall, various drag memorabilia scattered in his room, and the corner where his guitar rests next to a table with a spread of papers crowded with Trixie’s recognizable illegible scrawl.

It surprises him, the sudden wave of palpable affection he feels picturing the whole scene. At how he finds contentedness in the quaintness of it all. He doesn’t want to admit how much Trixie turned him into such a sap.

Trixie, on the other hand, appears to be completely at ease with everything, the giggling flirtations and the cheesy statements.  For some reason, this leaves Violet feeling shy. He was a teenager the last time he felt this like this. He isn’t sure if he wants to revel in it or to run away from it. But what he wants to know is if Trixie was feeling the same way.

“Trixie,” Violet calls him.

“Yeah, Vi?”

“About that night,” Violet begins with that uncharacteristic trepidation that has been a recurring theme for him when it comes to Trixie Mattel, “when you said that being with me—that you were getting over Katya…”

Trixie lets out a sigh and this makes Violet’s body go rigid.

“Violet— “

“Was it true?”

“What?” Trixie asks, confused, “Of course it was true.” The tension in Violet’s body dissipate. Trixie continues, “I know it isn’t—I mean, I didn’t want to tell you like that. I wasn’t sure if I was even going to—maybe. I don’t know,” Trixie sighs louder, “Katya was right, in a way, it’s hard for me to separate the physical with the emotional and I ended up—I began falling for you. And I know it was just supposed to be this fun, casual kaikai thing but I—sorry —and you don’t have to do or feel anything! Violet, I just— “

“Trixie,” Violet interrupts, “Brian. I like you, I like you a lot. I mean, probably more than just like,” Violet is holding the phone with both hands, a giddy whir in his chest, “the feeling is mutual, I mean.”

“Oh,” Trixie responds. Violet can hear the smile in his voice and he reprimands himself for being so full of clichés.

“That first night we, you know,” Violet says in a low voice, “when you were drunk.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Trixie responds immediately, and realizes that Violet has been thinking of that night in a certain way.

“What?”

“I wasn’t. I mean, maybe just a little tipsy, but I wasn’t drunk.”

“You practically drank a whole bottle, bitch.”

Trixie laughs, “I’m from the rural Midwest, Violet, I haven’t drunk anything stronger than what comes out from the good ol’ corn mash my grandpa’s worked on from his backyard distillery.”

“My parents would never let me marry a redneck boy,” Violet says.

“Bitch!”

Violet, feeling at ease, recalls that first night they slept together. He remembers Trixie’s flirtatious advances that Violet had always chalked up to the alcohol. Then there was Trixie’s wide, bright smile that never left his face. It’s the kind of boyish smile that Violet’s always liked on him. Then there was the memory of Trixie almost falling over himself and that sloppy smack on the lips Violet received. And then, a little later on was Trixie’s hurried tongue when they didn’t stop kissing. Violet remembers how Trixie looked like when he pushed him onto the bed: skin flushed and breathing heavily; his eyes were the clearest they have been the whole night and they were staring at him so wildly. He remembers sucking the skin on Trixie’s neck and the slight moan at the contact. Trixie was begging to be fucked. Violet remembers how it felt like finally entering Trixie and how he pulled him close and locked their lips. Violet recalls how he couldn’t stop his hips from moving and how Trixie’s muffled moans were reverberating through his body.

Violet doesn’t realize that his hand had snaked itself past his underwear. He gasps slightly when he wraps his hand around his hard dick.

Trixie appears to have been listening intently, deciphering Violet’s actions when he heard his deepening breath and sharp intake of breath.

“Fuck,” Trixie groans, feeling sensations of his own stirring in between his legs, “I can’t believe I versed for you.”

“How did it feel?” Violet asks forcefully.

“Mm?” Trixie hummed, half-teasing and slightly shocked at the roughness in Violet’s voice.

“How did it feel like to fuck me?” Violet asks gruffly. He hears Trixie make a sound and knows that he’s started touching himself too.

“Fuck, it felt good, Vi. So fucking good.”

‘Yeah?” Violet said breathily, steadily stroking himself. “You like being inside me?”

“Yes. Oh god, Violet, I didn’t think that—fuck,” Trixie sounds desperate and this makes Violet move his hand even faster. “You felt so good Vi, you feel so fucking good.”

“I want to see you, Trixie, I want you to fuck me.”

On the other end of the line, Trixie makes strained noise. He likes what Violet said.

“Say my name again.”

“Trixie, please—Brian, fuck.”

“Do you like it when I fuck you?” Trixie’s voice becomes low.

Violet whimpers, too on turned on to oppose the shift in power. It wasn’t an odd development, it’s just how things usually go with them, a constant back and forth on who has the upper hand.

“Please, Brian—I’m going to— “

“Let me hear you Vi, I want to hear you. Don’t hold back.”

“Fuck, I’m cum—” Violet moans loudly in his orgasm. Thrusting into his hand as his warm sperm spurts onto his stomach. Soon after, he listens as Trixie follows him, savoring the familiar sound of Trixie’s moans.

“Fuck.”

“Mhm.”

Violet sinks deeper in his bed, exhausted, and begins to drift off into sleep. He doesn’t put the phone down still. Instead, clutching it preciously and keeping it pressed up to his ear. He lets the low static from the phone lull him to sleep.

Suddenly, he hears three sharp knocks on the door. He jumps and turns his head towards the other side of the room, heart beating loudly. It registers that the knock came from the other side of the call. He listens as Trixie shuffles out of bed and walk towards his door.

The illusion breaks for Violet. It dawns on him that he was wrong: Trixie wasn’t at home in his room cozied up in bed like Violet had imagined. The quaint little scene in his mind vanishes. Trixie is probably in a hotel booked for him in some state. He’s probably in between gigs, still immersed in the real world, in their world, that continues to exist around them even though Violet pretended to forget.

There can only be one person who is knocking on Trixie’s door at this time of the night.

“Is that Katya?” Violet asks. There is a crack in his voice that he doesn’t bother concealing.

“Yes,” Trixie answers. The knocking continues, louder this time, but Trixie ignores it. “It’s him.”

A sort of frustrated helplessness befalls Violet. He doesn’t know if he wants to shout or cry.

“What do we—what do we do, Brian? What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” Trixie tells him honestly, sounding sorry, sounding tired, too. The knocking on the door persists. “I’m sorry.” His low voice echoes slightly that Violet thinks that Trixie is leaning his forehead against the door.

“I like you, Trixie” Violet tells him.

“I, too—I’m so sorry Violet,” Trixie answers.

The knocking on the door stops and Trixie still hasn’t opened the door. Violet wonders if Katya can hear Trixie, if he’s listening on from the other side. He wonders if Katya is pressing himself up against the door, too. He can see them both, from either side of that thin plank of wood, mirroring one another as they always do. Violet can imagine that scene clearly, it’s so real for him. Although, he remembers, he could be wrong about that, too.

“We might be going on a European tour,” Trixie says finally.

“How long will you be away?”

“Three months at most, I think,” Trixie’s tone changes, “Violet I want to see you.”

“You can see me,” he answers plainly.

“No, I mean like, see you. But—I- I don’t know. Everything is so crazy right now and I don’t know what to do, what should I do?” Trixie sounds exhausted and overwhelmed and Violet wants to comfort him but how can he? It’s become apparent that Trixie is faced with a decision but both of them don’t even know what Trixie is deciding on. Starting a new relationship at the apex of their careers? The risk of letting yourself fall in love again? Dating another drag queen? Choosing between him or Katya?

“I don’t smoke,” was the only thing Violet could think of saying.

This makes Trixie laugh, a small chuckle, but enough to calm the both of them down.

“You should go,” Violet says, Katya’s waiting.

“Yeah,” Trixie responds, sounding like he doesn’t mean it, “I should go,” he says even though he doesn’t want to. Still, Trixie ends the call.

Violet regrets it immediately. In his head, there was a sudden surge of things he wants to say. He wants to tell Trixie, he knows the answer! All the things that had baffled him completely about his feelings, he can see clearly. Violet knows what he wants now. The words that have evaded him were finally resting at the tip of his tongue: I’m falling in love with you. I want to be with you. Let’s make it work. Stay with me. Don’t go.

But Violet doesn’t touch his phone again, he doesn’t move, and allows his exhaustion to drag him into unconsciousness.

In his dreams, Violet is a ditsy blonde singer with bad luck in men and a soft spot for saxophone players. She meets a woman on train, the newest member of their all-female band, except he isn’t really a woman. He’s a man in a wig.

“I’m hiding from the mob,” he tells her in secret, he’s witnessed a murder.

Violet knows she should tell someone, he might be dangerous and he shouldn’t be in here with all the girls. But he plays her a song he swears he’s made for her and smiles a familiar bright smile that makes her stomach flip.

It must be the sax, she thinks.

[bronzeflower]

Who The Fuck Writes A Ten-Page Rant?????

Chapter 11: Matesprits and Moirails

Also on ao3

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling tentacleTherapist [TT] --

CG: ROSE.

TT: And who might this be?

CG: THIS IS KARKAT. CG: DAVE GAVE ME YOUR CHUMHANDLE.

TT: And what caused you to contact me on this lovely day.

CG: DAVE TOLD ME THAT YOU WERE FREAKING OUT ABOUT KANAYA’S BIRTHDAY AND NEGLECTED TO CONTACT YOUR’S TRULY FOR ADVICE.

TT: Ah. TT: Believe me, I have everything under control.

CG: ARE YOU SURE? CG: BECAUSE DAVE WAS KIND OF WORRIED ABOUT YOU.

TT: Dave? Worried?

CG: YES.

TT: You know I jest, correct? TT: Dave is always worried, but he hides that worry under shades and a poker face.

CG: DAVE HAS THE WORST POKER FACE I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE. CG: HE’S EASIER TO READ THAN JOHN, AND THAT GUY PRACTICALLY WEARS HIS HEART ON HIS SLEEVE.

TT: I think that may be more due to the fact that you spend so much time with him rather than Dave having a horrible poker face.

CG: THAT MAY BE TRUE, BUT WE AREN’T HERE TO BLABBER ON AND GOSSIP ABOUT DAVE THIS ENTIRE TIME. CG: WE’RE HERE BECAUSE DAVE EXPRESSED THAT YOU MIGHT REQUIRE MY EXPERTISE.

TT: And what kind of expertise would that be?

CG: ROSE, YOU’VE KNOWN ME FOR HOW FUCKING LONG? CG: AND YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT MY EXPERTISE IS IN?

TT: I have known you for several weeks, and I still do not know.

CG: ROMANCE, ROSE. ROMANCE. CG: I AM A CERTIFIED EXPERT IN ROMANCE. CG: AND, BASED ON WHAT LITTLE DAVE TOLD ME, YOU NEED HELP GETTING A GIFT FOR KANAYA. CG: IT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE TO BE ANYTHING BIG. CG: YOU CAN LITERALLY JUST USE ME AS A SOUNDING BOARD, AND I CAN TELL YOU HOW MUCH KANAYA WOULD LOVE A CERTAIN GIFT.

TT: I… TT: I suppose I could let you offer help.

CG: I GUESS THAT’S THE BEST I’M GOING TO GET OUT OF YOU. CG: WHAT WERE YOU PLANNING TO GET HER?

TT: A handmade scarf with some crochet flowers sewed onto it. TT: In hindsight, it is rather embarrassing to say that out loud. TT: Maybe I should try doing something else.

CG: ROSE. CG: ROSE. CG: I’M GOING TO NEED YOU TO LISTEN TO ME FOR A QUICK MINUTE. CG: JUST, TAKE A MOMENT TO BREATHE. CG: IN, OUT, IN, OUT. CG: FORGET ANY AND ALL WORRIES ABOUT EVERYTHING. CG: NOW, LISTEN TO ME. CG: YOUR IDEA WAS FANTASTIC, AND I CAN’T CONCEIVABLY UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WOULD WANT TO SCRAP SUCH A GREAT IDEA. CG: FUCK THE PART OF YOUR BRAIN SAYING THAT WAS A BAD IDEA. CG: IT’S IDIOTIC AND STUPID, AND YOU SHOULD REFUSE TO LISTEN TO IT.

TT: I don’t believe it is that simple to merely turn off that part of your brain.

CG: WELL, WHY DON’T YOU LET MY WORDS SOOTH YOUR MIND AND SOUL? CG: I, KANAYA’S MOIRAIL, AND THEREFORE THE INDIVIDUAL WHO KNOWS KANAYA THE BEST, AM TELLING YOU RIGHT FUCKING NOW THAT KANAYA WILL LOVE WHATEVER GIFT YOU GIVE HER. CG: SHE WILL ALSO LOVE GETTING A HOMEMADE SCARF. CG: I HAVE NEVER MET A SINGLE PERSON MORE APPRECIATIVE OF HANDMADE THINGS THAN KANAYA. CG: I GUARANTEE SHE WILL LOVE IT WITH ALL HER HEART. CG: HAS THIS HELPED YOU AT ALL?

TT: … TT: You know what? TT: It actually has. TT: I appreciate your help, Karkat.

CG: IT WAS A PLEASURE.

TT: I apologize for asking this, but would you go to the knitting store with me? TT: I want to find the right kind of yarn to use for the scarf.

CG: SURE, I’LL GO WITH YOU. CG: WHERE DO YOU LIVE? I’LL PICK YOU UP.

Once you had successfully secured Rose’s address, you went there to pick up Rose. She got out of her place and into your car.

“Okay, so you’re going to have to tell me where the fuck we are going to go because I have never been to a single knitting store in my lifetime. Fabric stores? Sure! I can navigate anyone to any fabric store in the entire goddamn town. I can also tell them which ones are full of shit and which ones are actually decent. But, knitting stores? That is out of my jurisdiction.”

“Take a right at the next intersection, and then you go straight before taking the first left you see. There will be a parking lot with a bunch of craft stores nearby.” Rose explained.

When you get to the knitting store, you are somehow surprised at the amount of yarn in it.

There are so many kinds of yarn. Thin yarn, thick yarn, colorful yarn, scratchy yarn, soft yarn, yarn in balls, yarn in these weird oblong shapes, gradient yarn. You were pretty glad it wasn’t you who was trying to find a specific material to use to make a scarf or sweater or something because you were pretty sure that you would have absolutely no idea what to do or even where to start.

Instead, Rose wondered around the store, while you stared at various objects. Like yarn. So much yarn. Who even needs this many types of goddamn yarn.

Eventually, you got to the point where you gave up attempting to help Rose find yarn and went to a box of clearance yarn to feel the yarn and squish the yarn balls.

Rose comes up to you with various things of yarn.

“Karkat, I request your assistance. I would like to know what kind of material Kanaya would like the best.”

“I’ll try, but, like I said earlier, I only have any sort of prowess when it comes to fabrics.”

“You can tell me what colors to use for the scarf. I was thinking of using this gradient yarn for the scarf.” She hands you some yarn that is several shades of green. “Do you have any advice for what color to use for the flowers?”

“I would use lavender for the flowers.” You decide. “A lot of trolls wear the color of their quadrantmates as a way of telling everyone who they’re with. Usually, it’s the blood color, but humans only have one blood color. You do type in lavender though, and trolls have the habit of hemotyping, so, at this point, I kind of associate the color with you, and I’m sure that Kanaya does too.”

“Oh.” Rose blushed and chose out some lavender yarn. She also grabbed a few more of the green, gradient yarn. Once she bought all the yarn she wanted to buy, the two of you returned to your car.

You drive Rose back to her house, but, before she goes, she turns to you.

“Thank you, Karkat. For going to the knitting store with me.”

“It wasn’t really any big deal. I mean, I barely did anything.”

“I still appreciate it.”

Rose left, and you just drove back home.

What to do. You guess you could troll Aradia for the first time in years. It would be nice to hear from her again.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling apocalypseArisen [AA] --

CG: I CAN’T BELIEVE NEITHER OF US BOTHERED TO CONTACT EACH OTHER FOR YEARS. CG: HOW HAVE YOU BEEN DOING? CG: DAVE TELLS ME THAT YOU’VE BEEN DOING ARCHEOLOGY. CG: THAT’S PRETTY COOL. CG: OH YEAH, THIS IS KARKAT BY THE WAY. IN CASE YOU DIDN’T RECOGNIZE MY HANDLE.

AA: hello karkat! AA: its very nice to hear from you again

CG: HOLY SHIT. CG: YOU DON’T PUT ZEROS FOR O’S ANYMORE.

AA: yes it is quite the development AA: you still type in all caps

CG: AND I STILL HAVE NO VOLUME CONTROL. BIG WHOOP.

AA: the amount of swearing you do seems to have lessened as well

CG: I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM A MATURE ADULT WHO IS FULLY AWARE THAT ONE DOES NOT NEED TO SWEAR TO LAY DOWN AN INSULT THAT IS GUARANTEED TO BURN AT THE HIGHEST DEGREE POSSIBLE

AA: people still tell you that you swear too much dont they

CG: YEAH. CG: I’M PRETTY MUCH USED TO IT BY THIS POINT THOUGH. CG: ONCE I SAID HELL IN FRONT OF THIS LADY, AND SHE CLUTCHED AT HER CHEST LIKE I WAS LUCIFER HIMSELF. CG: I INFORMED HER THAT I WAS, IN FACT, A DEMON SENT BY SATAN HIMSELF THAT WAS THERE TO BRING CHAOS, DESTRUCTION, AND SIN UPON THE WORLD ONE CURSE WORD AT A TIME.

AA: did you really

CG: NO. CG: IN REALITY, I IGNORED HER AND WENT ON WITH THE REST OF MY LIFE.

AA: that was very mature of you

CG: YEAH, WELL. CG: I’M NOT IN MIDDLE SCHOOL ANYMORE. CG: I’VE LEARNED THAT I SHOULD CHOOSE MY BATTLES VERY CAREFULLY.

AA: that sounds fake but ok

CG: WOW, RUDE. CG: I AM TOTALLY CAPABLE OF FIGURING OUT WHAT BATTLES I SHOULD AND SHOULD NOT FIGHT. CG: FUCK YOU. CG: BUT IN ALL SERIOUSNESS, I AM GETTING BETTER AT IT. CG: BY THE WAY, I ALSO HEARD THAT YOU WERE DATING SOLLUX? CG: HOW’S THAT SHITHEAD TREATING YOU.

AA: speaking that sollux and i have been in a committed relationship for several years AA: really well

CG: HOLY SHIT. CG: SOLLUX COMPLETELY NEGLECTED TO TELL ME ANY OF THIS. CG: WHAT ABOUT YOUR OTHER QUADRANTS?

AA: ive only really filled the one quadrant AA: its difficult to find someone who would be willing to go out with someone who they are unable to contact for months at a time

CG: I GUESS THAT WOULD PUT A DAMPER ON THINGS.

AA: what about you AA: are you still moirails with gamzee

CG: *GOD* NO. CG: WE BROKE UP A LONG ASS TIME AGO. CG: MY MOIRAIL IS KANAYA NOW.

AA: i bet that nepeta was both disappointed and excited at that

CG: I THINK AT SOME POINT SHE RECOGNIZED THAT GAMZEE AND I WEREN’T VERY GOOD FOR EACH OTHER AND UPDATED HER SHIPPING WALL WITH THAT KNOWLEDGE, SO SHE WASN’T NEARLY AS DISAPPOINTED AS SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN HAD WE BROKEN UP WHILE OUR RELATIONSHIP WAS STILL PRETTY HEALTHY. CG: ACTUALLY, NO. CG: IT WASN’T A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP FOR EITHER GAMZEE OR ME, AND I’M GLAD WE WERE BOTH MATURE ENOUGH TO REALIZE THAT.

AA: it sounds like you have a lot of experience dealing with pale romance now AA: what about your other quadrants

CG: EMPTY. CG: NO ONE REALLY WANTS TO DATE SOMEONE WHO VACILLATES LIKE A FUCKING MADMAN TO THE POINT OF IT NOT ACTUALLY BEING VACILLATING ANYMORE. CG: IT JUST BECOMES A WEIRD SORT OF MESS OF FEELINGS THAT CAN’T REALLY BE ORGANIZED INTO THE CATEGORIES OF RED OR BLACK ANYMORE.

AA: i guess we are both in similar boats of not being able to date because of our respective circumstances

CG: YEAH. CG: … CG: YOU SOUND LIKE A VILLAIN.

AA: how so

CG: THE ENTIRE “YOU AND I ARE THE SAME” TROPE THING THAT VILLAINS IN MOVIES AND TELEVISION SHOWS DO A LOT.

AA: i suppose so AA: certainly not the worse thing to be told that i sound like AA: but karkat AA: i have something to ask you AA: youre still a self proclaimed romantic master correct

CG: YOU BET YOUR BOTTOM DOLLAR I AM. CG: WHAT DO YOU NEED? CG: I’LL HELP YOU FREE OF CHARGE.

AA: i sorry to ask you something like this when our first time talking in a long time AA: but not many of the people that i know and talk to have any sort of knowledge about romance AA: particularly pale romance

CG: GO ON.

AA: im pale for someone

CG: NO SHIT, SHERLOCK. CG: I THINK I KNOW WHO IT IS, BUT TELL ME WHO IT IS ANYWAY.

AA: its dave AA: i dont even know if he does quadrants or anything like that AA: but i wanted to ask you if you knew how i could best ask him out

CG: ARADIA, THIS IS MY ADVICE TO YOU. CG: BE AS BLUNT AS POSSIBLE AND DON’T BEAT AROUND THE BUSH. CG: I HAVEN'T KNOWN DAVE FOR LONG, BUT WHAT I KNOW ABOUT HIM IS THAT HE’S AS OBLIVIOUS AS A BRICK FUCKING WALL.

AA: so just go for it

CG: YEAH.

AA: thanks for the advice! AA: sorry to cut this conversation short but if i have to do this while im feeling motivated to

-- apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

You figure you should probably leave both Aradia and Dave alone for a while, so you decide to spend some time reading an old romance novel that you’ve had in your collection for years.

You’ve probably read this book a thousand times, and you practically know the words by heart. It’s your favorite one because of the complex quadrant vacillation included in the story, and the romance was much better done than in most romance novels you’ve read.

It was about the main character, Epiciu Goshum, a blue blood who became flushed for a jade blood despite their moirailship with a purple blood. Meanwhile, they also struggled with their moirailship with another blue blood, a morailship that soon dissolved. With the dissolution of the morailship, Epiciu soon finds themself pale for both a yellow blood and a rust blood, feelings that they struggle with because of their status in society.

Oddly enough, it was one of the few troll romances that focused more on red romance than black romance. While there was some black romance and vacillation, the majority of the story had feelings that showcased the complex dimensions of emotions directed towards a singular individual, which might have been part of why this was your favorite story.

Anyway, in the end, Epiciu ends up with both the jade and purple blood in a polyamorous flushed relationship, which was something that sounded like a bad idea, but the sequels to the book showed that it ended up being perfectly healthy.

As for their pale interests, they ended up only becoming moirails with the yellow blood, but they did become very good friends with the rust blood, and they ended up becoming an activist for blood color equality.

While there were sequels to the book focusing more on the actual relationships the protagonist was in, something you appreciated because of the way most romance novels ended when the protagonist and the love interest got together, the first book had always been your favorite.

You get maybe a quarter way through the book before you find that someone has started trolling you.

At first, you thought it was going to be Aradia messaging you back about how asking out Dave went, but, to your surprise, it ended up being Sollux.

-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

TA: KK TA: ii need two a2k you 2omethiing

CG: WHAT IS IT?

TA: ok 2o dont freak out but iim planniing on proposiing to AA

CG: WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, HOLD UP CG: YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING PROPOSE? CG: HOW LONG HAVE THE TWO OF YOU BEEN DATING?

TA: KK ii told you not to freak out TA: but yeah iim goiing to propose TA: ii’ve programmed a viideo game about fiindiing artiifacts and 2tuff for her TA: and the fiinal level has the fo22iil2 2pelliing out that ii want two marry her

CG: THAT’S ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE, AND I’M REALLY HAPPY FOR YOU. CG: HOWEVER, AT THE SAME TIME, I’M PISSED THAT YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU WERE DATING HER SOONER CG: I LITERALLY LEARNED YOU WERE DATING HER TODAY FROM HER CG: AND THE ONLY REASON I TALKED TO HER WAS BECAUSE DAVE OF ALL PEOPLE KNEW HER FROM COLLEGE OR WHATEVER CG: AND I HADN’T TALKED TO HER IN FUCKING YEARS

TA: wow ii’m 2urprii2ed you only u2ed one cur2e word

CG: OKAY, WOW. CG: FUCK YOU.

TA: ii thought you in2ult2 were more creatiive than that, a22hole

CG: MY INSULTS ARE PLENTY CREATIVE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. CG: I JUST DIDN’T FEEL LIKE WASTING MY CREATIVITY ON YOU.

TA: ii’m hurt KK ii really am

CG: SUCK IT UP

TA: anyway ii need 2omeone two te2t my game out who i2n’t me two tell me iif there are any bug2 or whatever that iive overlooked

CG: I’LL NEED TO KNOW TWO THINGS BEFORE I AGREE TO THIS: HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN DATING ARADIA, AND HOW LONG WILL THE GAME TAKE TO PLAY?

TA: we’ve been datiing for a few year2 and the game wiill probably take about an hour or two dependiing on how much you take your tiime

CG: ALSO, IS THERE ANY PARTICULAR REASON THAT YOU’RE CHOOSING ME OF ALL PEOPLE TO REVIEW THE GAME?

TA: ii don’t really talk to many other people and you’re the 2uppo2ed “kiing of romance”

CG: ALRIGHT, I’LL PLAY THE GAME. CG: SEND ME THE LINK OR WHATEVER YOU NEED TO SEND ME IN ORDER TO TEST THE GAME.

TA: yeah here you go TA: (link to game) TA: tell me any problem2 you miight have

CG: WILL DO.

TA: thank2

-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

You click on the link to the game, trusting that Sollux didn’t just send you a virus and began playing.

It was actually a pretty well-made game with Aradia shown as the sprite, and each time you found a fossil, a message box popped up talking about what a great job you did. All of the messages talked about how much Sollux loved Aradia, and it was honestly sickeningly sweet.

It really only took you an hour to play, and the final ending honestly made you tear up with how open and honest Sollux ended up being in his proposal, and you immediately messaged him the moment you finished the game.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] --

CG: SHE’S GOING TO FUCKING LOVE IT. CG: SHIT, FUCK, I’M CRYING. CG: YOU BETTER INVITE ME TO THE WEDDING, ASSHOLE.

TA: 2o no bug2 found?

CG: NO, IT WAS PERFECT, AND I DIDN’T KNOW YOU COULD BE THAT SAPPY AND ROMANTIC.

TA: yeah yeah shut up there2 no need to announce iit two the world

CG: THAT’S LITERALLY WHAT MARRYING SOMEONE IS FOR, BUT OKAY.

TA: iim goiing to do a few more ediits before 2endiing iit two her but iim defiiniitely doiing iit 2oon

CG: I’M JUST SO HAPPY FOR YOU. CG: LIKE HOLY SHIT; I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!

TA: diid you ju2t u2e a 2emiicolon

CG: I DON’T NEED YOUR JUDGEMENT FOR WHAT KIND OF PUNCTUATION I USE. CG: IT’S NOT MY FAULT THAT YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO USE A SEMICOLON.

TA: ii know how to u2e a 2emiicolon but iim not enough of a nerd to u2e them

CG: YOU LITERALLY DESIGNED A VIDEO GAME TO PROPOSE TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND. CG: YOU ARE JUST AS MUCH OF A NERD AS I AM.

TA: yeah but ii’m a cool nerd

CG: DON’T THINK I WON’T FIGHT YOU!!!

TA: aha good luck wiith that

-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

CG: HEY! CG: GET BACK HERE SO I CAN FIGHT YOU!!!

But Sollux was gone. Whatever. You didn’t really care as long of you were invited to the wedding. You would probably actually fight Sollux if he didn’t invite you because that would be a real dick move.

You may or may not be salty about the one time someone didn’t invite you to their wedding. But you wouldn’t name names.

You get back to your book, and you actually get pretty far before being trolled again. This time, it was Aradia.

-- apocalypseArisen [AA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

AA: karkat! AA: thanks for your advice!!!

CG: ARE YOU MOIRAILS WITH DAVE NOW?

AA: yeah!!!

CG: I’M SUPER HAPPY FOR YOU!!!

AA: yeah im glad we got that sorted out AA: it took a while to iron out the details and stuff but weve basically established our moirailship AA: but yeah you were right i did have to be very blunt AA: which i should have maybe known since ive known him for longer but you know what they say AA: hindsight is twenty twenty

CG: THAT’S A REALLY WEIRD PHRASE.

AA: it is AA: i wonder where it came from AA: … AA: hindsight means thinking about things after theyve happened and twenty twenty refers to perfect eyesight AA: which in hindsight makes it pretty obvious

CG: A LITTLE BIT, YEAH.

AA: well i should get going! AA: i need to pack for the next trip im going on!

CG: GOOD LUCK! CG: I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD TIME.

AA: i always do! AA: ill be sure to troll you when i can

-- apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

TG: holy shit karkat youll never guess what just happened

CG: I’M GOING TO GUESS THAT YOU BECAME OFFICIAL MOIRAILS WITH ARADIA.

TG: shit howd you know TG: did ara already tell you TG: you already had a sick ass convo with her

CG: I HAVE.

TG: awesome TG: well i was just here to drop the news on your fine ass TG: i mean TG: you know what TG: fuck it TG: you do have a nice ass but forget i said that TG: i was here to give you the official dave strider seal that ara and i are now rails but i guess youve already got a hold of that sweet info so im gonna ollie out of here k TG: got others to bless this information with TG: dont be stranger

CG: I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF IT.

TG: awesome cool right message you later karkat bro

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

You basically spend the rest of the day reading your favorite series. Thank god for days off.

[sternbilder]

the games i played to completion in 2017, ranked in order of how much i liked them

mostly for my own reference and i’m gonna try to keep this out of the tags but read on if you want to read about me getting super excited about video games i guess

p/ersona 5 - look i know this wasn’t a perfect game like there are Several Large Complaints i would like to file regarding plot and pacing and premise even but this was. still my favorite game of 2017 and just such an enjoyable 120 hours to have spent holy fuck?? like everyone’s always talking about how stylish p5 is and goddamn are they right like it’s such a gorgeous game!! the loving detail they put into every aspect of the UI, the beautiful character sprites, that effortlessly cool contemporary tokyo vibe that oozes into every aspect of the game!! and the gameplay (which i played on normal difficulty, being a series beginner) was both challenging and rewarding and both the dungeons and the school life segments (considering the sheer variety of Shit You Could Do not to mention all the charming-ass characters with compelling sideplots) were just. an absolute treat?? plus the soundtrack to this game was just killer so there’s also that

n/ier: automata - SPEAKING OF GAMES WITH GR8 SOUNDTRACKS. i think this game’s soundtrack probably ranks up there with my favorite video game OSTs of ALL TIME FOREVER like seriously. it is so so good. anyway friends it took me four (4) days to beat this game and another full 24 hours just to process this game like. y’all know i’m always a slut for sad robots and BOY HOWDY did this game have that thing. not only is the game itself gorgeous but i’m pretty much in love with the Entire cast (but especially 9S, who is my special son) and i’m crying,, eternally,, about the c/d/e routes and even though it probably wasn’t the Most impressive and best written game Ever it had a lot of good twists and revelations and a real sense of weight and suspense esp. in the later playthroughs which i am ALL ABOUT. not being much of an action RPG person i never really fell in love w/ the combat but it was fun enough even though it got kind of repetitive and too hack-and-slashy for my taste after a while?? actually fuck the bullet hell hacking minigame tho if i’m gonna be real

f/ire emblem fates (birthright, conquest, and revelation) - listen i know this game was like objectively garbage but i’m still trying to justify having spent a literal 1/3 of my year playing it so bear with me for just 2 hot seconds. first of all hi yes there’s a running theme here bc i dig the shit out of fe14′s OST?? also even though the plot was kind of a mess the characters and supports still grew on me a lot after a while and actually the gameplay was really fun?? maybe it’s bc i played it on hard/classic (as opposed to fea which i played on normal/casual) but i really enjoyed the combat a lot more in these games than fea--actually i do think there’s actually a lot of actual improvements here, especially with all the new classes, the improved dual guard/dual strike rules, and no fucking weapon durability, etc. as well as a lot of the more unusual victory conditions (in conquest and revelation, not so much in birthright) like i feel like there were a lot of highlights and i genuinely enjoyed the battles in fe14 a lot and sure the whole waifu nintendogs concept is creepy as hell and babyrealm is a fucking joke but i still thought this was a Pretty good or at least enjoyable game so you can fight me on that front

d/anganronpa v3 - ok let me me the first to admit that i honestly?? don’t really like dr as a franchise very much and the only real reason i got into it in the first place is to fill the ace attorney-shaped hole in my heart in between releases thereof (as well as superficial similarities to other games i like, like ze) and while i still enjoy the gameplay and investigating and mystery-solving parts of it and those aspects i still find very enjoyable and well-written a lot of the rest of the games really kind of fall flat for me?? like tbh i’m not a huge fan of the art style, the sense of humor and localization don’t really do it for me, the characters are cute but kind of over-the-top and not super relatable to me personally, and honestly the whole ~evil mastermind did it for the lulz~ trope being played super straight disappointed me a lot about the first game especially?? that being said i know this is a bit of a base breaker but i actually really liked the direction that sdr2 took with its ending and it made me hopeful for the sequel, which brings me to drv3 which surprised me in a lot of pleasant ways?? like personally i think it’s the best dr yet and while i can see why people would be disappointed with the ending and feel like it may be a cop-out i think it was still clever enough that i appreciate it for trying?? or maybe it’s just bc i didn’t like the original so much and the departure from that felt like kind of a breath of relief but that’s just me idk

f/inal fantasy x - guess who was late to the party and played her first final fantasy in this year of the lord 2017!!! it’s me!!! honestly i was expecting more from this game overall in terms of plot just because it’s such a Classic and all but fwiw i still liked it?? i didn’t super love any of the main characters and the story was a little predictable and even though i played the remaster it’s still an obviously dated game but NEVERTHELESS it was still just a solid RPG and i genuinely enjoyed playing it!! i should play the sequel sometime but. i’ll get to it after i clear out this massive backlog i have currently as we speak sobs

the witness - i don’t talk about this game enough bc honestly it isn’t the kind of game that can have a real fanbase (no real characters or plot, etc.) but i still enjoyed the fuck out of this, holy hell. i mean it’s i guess kind of an open-world exploration-slash-puzzle concept which sounds kind of boring but the world is gorgeous and the way the game presents these puzzles for you to solve and teaches you the rules in a way that’s entirely self-explanatory and intuitive but still super difficult and ultimately rewarding is just so gratifying and i was just so so impressed at how creative they got with these puzzle designs and the way the world seems to unfold itself the more you unlock its secrets?? anyway i know this is near the bottom bc i do love me a video game story and this particular game doesn’t have that but PLAY THIS GAME IF YOU LIKE PUZZLES IT IS JUST SO COOL AND FUN AND GOOD

the n/onary games (999 only) - this is a replay but still worth mentioning i think?? obviously 999 is one of my favorite games of all time and i was super pumped about the remake and while i didn’t quite enjoy it as much as the very first time i played 999 on my DS it was still a good game!! tbh i mostly just played this game for the voice acting which i was pretty impressed with, and also i got to pick up a lot of the bilingual bonuses i obviously missed while playing my localized copy of the original game which was cool!! i wasn’t as impressed with the updated sprites unfortunately, i felt like their quality was inconsistent and some of them looked like kind of a rush job to me but ymmv i guess?? i think overall i still prefer the DS version even with improvements like the flow chart in the newer version, mostly because 1. i actually appreciated having to literally replay parts of the game in the former bc i feel like it’s more in the spirit of the game if you know what i mean, and 2. some details near the ending that they changed, which you definitely know what i mean if you played the game. still, i appreciate that it’s made the game more widely accessible and if you haven’t played the game pls go play this game i’m literally begging u,,

u/mineko (question arcs only) - ok the only reason i have this 8th on this list is just bc i haven’t technically finished it yet and BOY am i the kind of person who lives entirely for that sweet sweet payoff but there really isn’t THAT much i can say?? like thanks to the ps3 patch the art is pretty decent i guess?? i’m liking all the characters so far?? there’s a whole lot of Bullshit that doesn’t make any sense at this point but i’ve been promised metagame and mindfuck in due time so i guess i’ll just have to see?? yeah this is more of a tbd review than anything i don’t really know what to say besides i’m just so eager to play the other half of this game and get the answers to all these gotdamn MYSTERIES already

braid - i mostly just played this bc i knew it was made by the same person?? studio?? as the witness and while i liked braid and i really enjoyed the puzzles it was just too short for it to have really made an impression on me?? like i know that there is a story and a Twist but it didn’t really do much for me with how abstract it was and just in terms of sheer volume of content it doesn’t quite compare to the other games on this list like don’t get me wrong it was still good!! and if you need a way to kill an afternoon i still highly recommend it but it just wasn’t as memorable to me as p5 or nier was unfort

[toohardtosummarize]

Just the Three of Us

or some motherfucking Bravenlarke fluff in the form of a PJO AU 

 Raven plops down opposite Bellamy at the Ares table, setting her tray of food down in front of her. "You are the worst son of Ares I've ever met," she says, pulling his book down by the top of its spine so she can see his face, and he hers. Bellamy looks up from the pages. "Hello to you, too, Raven," he says. He closes the book; Raven moves her hand just in time to avoid getting her hand crushed between the heavy covers. Bellamy sets the book down. "Seriously," Raven says, "you're ruining your cabin's reputation as a bunch of brainless brutes." She peers over at Bellamy's book, trying to read the title upside down (a feat no harder, for her dyslexic ass, than reading it right side up). "The Iliad?" she says, raising an eyebrow, "seriously? What, is living the Greek epics not good enough for you, Blake?" "It's a good story," Bellamy says evenly. "You might try reading sometime, Reyes. You can learn a lot of new things that way, you know." "I'm a natural genius," Raven retorts. "I don't need to learn." "What is this, now?" Clarke asks, coming up behind Raven with her own tray. She sets it down, then takes a seat next to Raven, sliding her arm around Raven's waist and giving Bellamy a nod and a smile. "You should know better than to say you don't need to learn when you're dating an Athena, Raven." Her eyes twinkle. "This might be grounds for a break up." "I'm too awesome to break up with," Raven says, turning to kiss Clarke's cheek. Clarke laughs. "You are," she admits. "I love you, Raven." "What about me?" Bellamy asks jokingly. "That's a given, Bellamy," Clarke says. "I wasn't threatening to break up with you." She reaches across the table and lays her hand on top of his. He shrugs and makes a "that's fair" sound at the back of his throat. "Why is he a given and I'm not?" Raven whines. "Because you're difficult," Bellamy says, and Raven sticks her tongue out at him. He laughs. "My point exactly." Clarke watches her partners fondly. "How's that gun coming along?" she asks Raven, and Raven hunches forward immediately in frustrated animation. "It's not the gun that's the problem; that baby's standard, manufactured metal. The problem is the bullets. It seems Celestial Bronze really doesn't like being used in post-Grecian technology. The chemistry's all good – I've checked with Jasper – but the mechanics or the magic or whatever are not cooperating. And even once I've made them, and made them so they don't fucking fall apart, there's still the question of whether they'll work on monsters. Like, does the gunpowder need to be imbued with Celestial Bronze shavings, too? Because there's no way Kane and Sinclair are gonna let me use that much metal on this project, so if it does, I'm a goner." "If anyone can do it, Raven, it's you," Bellamy says. "You're incredible. We'd all be weaponless if it weren't for you." He shifts in his seat, and his sword rides up a little in its sheath. "It's true," Clarke says. "I've seen you working on this, Rae. You've got your mind set on it, and you can do anything with your determination." She fingers the hilts of her knives, which are sheathed in her belt, fondly. "I wouldn't have Diokitís or Thanatos if it weren't for you." "And we'd all be a world safer," Bellamy jokes. Clarke raises her eyebrows at him. "I would never pull my knives on a fellow Greek," Clarke says. "What do you take me for, a rogue?" "Of course not," Bellamy says. He lifts the hand that still lays on top of his to his lips, and Clarke blushes. Raven rests her own hand on Clarke's thigh. "Good," Clarke says. She looks down at her still-full tray of food. "We should probably actually eat; we'll need our energy for Capture the Flag tonight. Raven, Hephaestus is with us, right?" She puts a hand on Raven's shoulder. "Hephaestus is with us," Bellamy protests, taking Raven's hand. "Right, Raven?" "Clarke is right," Raven says. "You guys had us last time." Bellamy shrugs. "We'll crush you anyways." "In your dreams," Clarke says. "We always win." "They've got me, Blake," Raven says. "They're unstoppable." "I've always got both of you," Bellamy says, taking Clarke's hand as well, and Raven makes a face, and Clarke rolls her eyes. "You're such a sentimentalist, Bellamy." "You're like a goddamn son of Aphrodite, and you know how Clarke and I feel about those." "Quite well." Bellamy squeezes Clarke and Raven's hands, then releases them, picking up his utensils. Clarke and Raven follow suit. "Whoever wins," Clarke says, "and it will be us, it'll always be the three of us in the end, won't it?" "You're a fucking sap, Griffin," Raven says, but she leans her head against Clarke's shoulder, anyways.

[warmdrpepper]

Title: Chrom Never Learned To Dance Paring: Chrom/Robin Length: 1.6K ao3 link Rating: Everyone Summary:"It's hard trying to be vulnerable. Especially when it's so much easier to just pretend you don't have fantasies of going on dates and holding hands. (Tame, yes, but anything more extreme makes you feel creepy. He's still your commanding officer.)"

If Robin was an expert in anything, it would be dancing around his feelings for Chrom. 

i may have wrote a little thing, im a little late for chrobin week huh

For fuck's sake. You can face a horde of risen, an entire brigade, a goddamn bear by yourself, all with absolutely no problem; but somehow trying to talk about your feelings with the person you have feelings for is far too much to handle.

And it's not a lack of trying. You've come so close to confessing so many times, but either you're interrupted or you chicken out. And the latter happens far more than you care to admit. It's hard trying to be vulnerable. Especially when it's so much easier to just pretend you don't have fantasies of going on dates and holding hands. (Tame, yes, but anything more extreme makes you feel creepy. He's still your commanding officer.)

Never the less, this tine you mean it! This time you'll tell Chrom exactly how you feel about him without wimping out!

...Or maybe not.

As it turns out, you were both so busy with preparation for tomorrow's battle that neither of you had a chance to talk about anything that didn't directly relate. Disappointing, yes, but you can't say you're not relieved.

Frustrated, you sit up in a cot, the thin blanket falling forward. You can't sleep, for a number of reasons. Your horrific murder-nightmares, the general anxiety of knowing you're fighting tomorrow, and extra anxiety about having to hide your feeling another day.

This is so ridiculous! You've done things a thousands times harder than a simple confession! Why is this so damn difficult!?

You stand up, unable to sit quietly anymore. You pace around, checking your desk and shuffling paper, before you're sick of that too and decide to take a walk. Probably to the kitchen to grab something to drink.

You let your mind wonder as you walk. And, of course, it immediately goes to Chrom. How his eyes shine, how he smiles with his whole face, how his arms look after training, how he's so great with everything . You feel so lucky to have him in your life. You want to stay in his life as long as you can. So, you probably shouldn't tell him about your feelings. It could freak him out, drive him away. Besides, he deserves someone as equally amazing as he is. You're not that someone. You're just some bum he found on the ground.

And yet, you still want to be selfish and take him for yourself.

You look up, the kitchen tent in front of you. It startles you out of your thoughts. You go inside and fix some leftovers. They end up going cold as you play with the pieces of carrots and potatoes.

"Can't sleep?" Chrom sits next to you and its all you can do from jumping in fright. Were you that zoned out?

You swallow a chunk of potato. "Yeah."

"I know how you feel." He leans his head on a hand. "I've fought in a hundred battles, but I still get the jitters."

"Tell me about it." You two talked for a while. It's small talk that helps you both forget about tomorrow. Chrom laughs at something you said, and butterflies explode in your stomach. You wanna hear it on repeat. Forever.

Wait, now's your chance! There's no one around to interrupt you, no real excuses to leave, and you could always play it off as a joke if things went south. It's the perfect opportunity.

Chrom stretches, and just when you build enough courage to open your mouth, "It's late." Chrom says. "We should head to bed." You close your mouth and nod.

You both go outside and when Chrom starts walking off you grab his wrist. "I- wait."

"Robin?" He's concerned.

"I-" All it takes is one look into his eyes and you're done. Any courage you had is gone . "Sleep well."

"You as well." You wish you could capture Chrom's smile, in a painting or by some magical means. Just some way to keep it forever.

You stay, watching Chrom trod off to his tent, thinking, 'I was named after the wrong bird'.

Objectively, the battle goes perfectly, even better than you planned. Only one real hiccup to speak of.

Lissa almost slams into you as she walks through the tent's flaps. She quickly grabs your arms to keep her balance. "Oh! Robin! Are you hurt as well?"

"No, I'm just fine. I came by to check on Chrom." Worry eats at your gut, and has since you watched Chrom take a hit for you.

"Oh!" She turns and points. "He's in bed. He's not seriously hurt, one cut, some majoring bruising, but that's it. Everything internally is fine. But I'd still rather he stay for the night."

"Thank you so much, Lissa. I don't know what we'd do without you."

"I know. Now, I'm going to grab us dinner, should I bring you a plate?"

"Yes, please." She smiles and hurries away.

You walk inside, over to the line of beds. Chrom's there, picking at a bandage covering his arm. A giant, gnarly looking bruise covers his left check, running down his neck and lower into his shirt. You can't see it, but you know under the bandage is a massive wound. Even though you can't see it, your brain supplies the memory of it on the battlefield, caked in bloody chunks of sand. You feel sick.

Chrom looks up and when he sees you, he grins. "Hello Robin."

"What was that today?" His grin turns sheepish. "Chrom, you almost died!"

"But I didn't."

"This time! You can't do that again!" You're pacing, too angry to stand still.

"Do what? Protect you?" His eyes are piercing. "I will always protect you."

"If I get hurt from my own lack of planing, that's on me, I can't ask you to take that hit."

"That wasn't your fault." He reaches out and takes one of your hands. His are warm. Your anger starts to dissipate. "It was a lucky shot none of us saw coming."

"Still!" You take your hand back. Holding his is distracting and you need him to understand. "This army needs you!" I need you.

"We need you as well."

"Chrom-"

"Robin, listen." He sits up straighter. It looks like he wants to grab your hand again, but stops short. "I can't say I'm sorry for what happened. Because I'm not. If you have my back then I'm supposed to have yours. And please, I'm begging, save me any more lecturing. I've gotten enough from Fredrick and Lissa to last a lifetime."

"Can," You take a deep breath. Your anger isn't gone, but you can't bring yourself to yell any longer. "Fine, I'll stop but can you at least tell me why?"

He glances away. "Ah, well." He looks back at you. Does he seem nervous? "Robin, I think I l-"

Lissa and Fredrick burst in, both carrying two trays of food. "Dinner!" You graciously take a tray. Chrom looks dejected, but takes a tray as well. You want to ask Chrom what he wanted to say, but Lissa starts chattering. You'll bring it up later tonight, if you remember.

You don't.

A week later, you're laying on your cot, exhausted from today's march. The hot, Peligian sun baring down all day didn't help things at all. Neither did the wind, or the sand being whipped by the wind.

"Robin?" A whisper from outside your tent. "Are you awake?"

You sit up. "Yeah, come in." It's Chrom. He's in pajamas and his hair is a mess. It's a very cute sight. You hide a chuckle in your hand.

He sits next to you. The bruise is fading fast. It's no longer a gross, dark purple. The wound on his arm is a shallow cut now. You're indescribably thankful that Lissa works quick.

"You're up late." You say.

"Well, I've been thinking hard and I couldn't wait to talk to you." He's got his serious voice on. Oh gods, this is it. This is the end. They've found your past and now he's kicking you out of the army. You're not ready, you-

A hand gently touches your cheek. Your eyes snap up to meet beautiful blue ones. "It's taken me a while, but I finally understand how I've been feeling and," He takes a deep breath. And another one. And one more. His hand drops from your face to fan at his. "I-I'm sorry, just give me a minute." You snort despite yourself and the serious air is gone.

"Take your time." Secretly, you're enjoying seeing Chrom this flustered.

Chrom steels himself, holds both of your hands, looks into your eyes, and very quickly says, "Robin, I'm in love with you."

Did.

Wait.

Hold on.

Did you hear that right? He's in- He's what ?

What???

"Robin? Did I say something wrong?" His thumb brushes tears off your cheek.

Oh, I'm crying . "Do, do you really mean that? Because if this is a joke-"

"It's not, I swear! I really do love you!" Your heart jumps, no leaps out of your chest. "I would never joke about this. You mean so much to me, and I know you haven't been here that long, but you just, you feel so special to me and you make me so happy and-" He continues to ramble on, but your brain is fried, still stuck on Holy Hell This Is Real.

"And, and if you don't feel the same, I understand." Both of his hand fall away from you, landing at his sides. It's cold without him. "I thought you should at least know my feelings."

...

"Uh...Robin?" You blink. "You you haven't said anything in a while. Should I go?"

Your brain finally catches up. You blurt out, "I love you, too." And Chrom's face lights up in a way you've never seen before but will cherish until your dying day. He reaches forward, crushing you with a hug. You hug him back, burying your face in his pajama shirt.

You thank every god out there Chrom didn't dance around like you.

[gymviralscom]

People Are Doing It At Your Gym: 6 Personal Trainer Secrets

It’s been months since you signed up for that gym membership, and yet here you are, staring at a screen instead of working out. Maybe you’re making the right choice. Sure, sitting on your ass will almost certainly kill you sooner, but at least you’ll be spared the pain, lies, and body fluids you know a gym trip will bring. And at least you won’t have to look at the smiling face of a personal trainer like Ryan George, who wants to tell you that …

6

There’s Plenty Of Sex At The Gym

stokpic/Pixabay

I’m proud of the number of clients I’ve bedded … because that number is zero. I did a home session once with a woman who suggested exercising in the nude (I advised her not to — the pinching alone!). I had a male client invite me to a threesome with his wife (again, I said no; that is not what we mean by a “partner membership”). At a hotel gym, I worked with a client who wanted me to massage his glutes and asked if I’d ever been with a man (I told him that I wasn’t trained in butt massage).

Body-n-Care/Pixabay “No, I’m not trained in groin massages either.”

Less ethical trainers take advantage, though. There was one I worked with who went after every attractive woman that came in. One day, a girl came storming onto the fitness floor and asked every staff member where he was, but he was nowhere to be found. A few minutes later, there was a loud commotion: The girl didn’t know about the trainer’s reputation and found out that he had been hooking up with someone else. The gym ended up canceling both women’s memberships for fighting. They kept the trainer, though, as he had among the best sales numbers at the gym.

One high-end gym that I was working at tried to incentivize us to stay on-site all day by building a “sleeping” room for the personal trainers, complete with bunk beds. Yes, some genius thought it was a smart idea for a group of mostly young, attractive, and single trainers to have their own bedroom in the gym, and much to everyone’s shock and amazement, the room became a love-den. I did try the room out for its intended purpose on one occasion, only to have my nap interrupted by two trainers working each other out. Eventually, we lost access to the room because the housekeeping staff refused to clean it.

kadmy/iStock “Seriously, how difficult is it to put the condoms IN the trash can?”

One tip: Never go barefoot in a steam room. At the place I work now, the steam room is pretty regularly stained with semen. It’s most likely the result of jacking off pre-workout, which supposedly drops your blood pressure and relaxes you. Hey, they say you have to wipe only your sweat down after you’re finished.

5

A Personal Trainer’s Looks Matter Way More Than Their Qualifications

Satyrenko/iStock

Like most of the service industry, gyms hire with an eye toward beauty. As a manager told me, I have to be what the client wants me to be. To female trainers, he said, “If it’s a guy, you have to give him a really tough workout. When he’s finished, take him to the massage table. Massage his legs, stretch him out, and when you are doing the hamstring stretch, lean over, expose a bit of cleavage and say, ‘I’d like you to be my client. What kind of package can I put you down for?'”

g-stockstudio/iStock “I’m very committed to your hap-penis.”

It’s pretty clear what kind of business he thought he was running, and it didn’t involve a lot of careful vetting of qualifications. As a result, many of us didn’t have any. I got certified through the NASM, but plenty of trainers I work with haven’t. Some take multiple-choice online tests and use that, plus their visible muscles, to get hired. Don’t assume your trainer is some former athlete or even passionate about fitness — many join up just because they think it’ll be an easy job.

But all that isn’t necessarily the case. When I first joined one high-end gym, one of my fellow newbies was a stunning fitness model. She ended up getting lots of attention from the male clientele but couldn’t turn that into paying clients and quit the field altogether. Meanwhile Adrian — a middle-aged, slightly overweight female trainer with a thick Colombian accent — banked $250k a year. She was at the top of her field because she knew her shit, plain and simple.

Alex_Koch/Pixabay “The quicker you hit your fitness goals, the quicker I hit my financial ones. So pick that up. Now”

4

The Gym’s Business Model Is Completely Dependent On Your Lack Of Motivation

tpsdave/Pixabay

I can confirm some of the stuff Cracked joked about in this video: We really do count on a certain percentage of members signing up but not using the facility. If most gyms were used by anything close to the full roster of members, they’d be way beyond capacity. One time, a major blizzard back in the early 2000s basically shut down the city, but we stayed open. Scores of lapsed members, with nothing else to do and against all expectations, made their way through our doors. It was the busiest day that gym ever had, there wasn’t nearly enough equipment for everyone, and it was a goddamn madhouse. Luckily, it’s pretty hard to get trampled in a treadmill stampede.

Capitol Records Treadmill-related injuries have dropped drastically ever since OK Go canceled their membership.

Beyond tricking the masses into memberships they’ll never use, we’re supposed to sign clients up for personal sessions because that’s where the real money is. An hour of personal training might cost upward of $100, more than a whole month of gym membership. So once we’ve got people in the fitness room, we tell them the gym itself will do nothing for them, and they need one-on-one time if they want to improve. Not because of our knowledge, necessarily: The true selling point of a personal trainer is having to look somebody in the face and promise you’ll come to the gym at a specific time and date. It’s harder to stay on the couch when you’ve made that personal and financial commitment.

mastermilmar/iStock “You know what, just give me your wallet. You need to earn it back.”

Sometimes they do fight dirty with your willpower, though. Right after 9/11, the fitness manager gave us this long-winded speech and included a line he wanted us to tell potential clients: The reason so many people died during 9/11 was that they were not fit enough to escape the buildings. It’s a terrible argument, from what I heard. I never got around to using it, because hell is basically one big steam room — can you imagine how much semen is on the floor? No thanks.

3

Personal Trainers’ Advice Can Harm You

Highwaystarz-Photography/iStock

Here are the subjects a qualified trainer can speak on, ideally with a pumping dance beat backing them up: posture and movement, muscular strength and endurance, athletic performance, cardiovascular conditioning, and flexibility. That’s the ideal list, remember — we may not know anything about any of that stuff. We may just look rockin’ in spandex. Whatever the case, we are most certainly not authorities on nutrition, rehabilitation, or anything medical. Yet in every gym you’ll find trainers happy to advise you on all of those things no matter how disastrous the consequences.

gpointstudio/iStock “No, no, not the muscles, that’s a common myth. You have to eat another man’s heart to gain his strength.”

I know one trainer whose client was struggling (due to trainer incompetence, mostly), so he said, “Tell your doctor you have asthma and have them give you a prescription for Advair. That will help you with your cardio.” There was another who thought they were qualified to give diet advice to a diabetic. One client wanted to get in shape for her August wedding, so her trainer put her in a sauna suit to run on the treadmill the morning of the wedding to fit into her dress. And then there was the trainer who decided to fix a client’s back pain using “core exercises” that obviously just made the pain worse. We barely dodged a lawsuit on that one.

Even I’m not immune to the occasional climb up my own ass. I used to tell clients doing bench presses to touch the barbell to their chests. Then I learned this was shredding up their shoulder joints, so I stopped, but others still insist on it. Leg extensions are what everyone uses to build their quads, but I tell people not to because they’re ruining their knees in the process — you’ll still see a shiny leg extension machine in every gym. One trainer will tell you the lat pull has to go behind the neck, and I’ve seen that do terrible things to people’s shoulders long-term, but I’ve heard other trainers insist that doing it in front of chest, like I say to, is also bad.

Gennadiy Kravchenko/iStock It’s only a matter of time before it gets blamed for autism and gun violence.

You’ll never know who’s right until you screw yourself up doing it wrong.

2

Gym Employees Might Slip You Steroids

Dario Lo Presti/iStock

At one gym I worked at, the first Monday of every month, a guy in a suit would show up, change into workout gear, and take a black backpack into the gym with him. The man, who we dubbed “the doctor,” would do a 30-minute session. At some point, he would casually place the backpack somewhere behind the pull-up station, and the fitness manager would later take it with him into the office. For the next week, all the Terminator-looking guys walked in to the fitness manager’s office when the sales manager wasn’t around. I got the feeling they weren’t discussing that quarter’s revenue.

Ozimician/iStock “Oh my god, I finally saw Hamilton, and let me tell you, totally worth the wait!“

One trainer I know sends his clients to a doctor at an anti-aging clinic, advising them to claim that they’re suffering from low testosterone. The doctor then runs a series of tests which magically confirm this, and the client, whose only real symptom is a lack of swoleness, skips away with a legal prescription for testosterone. You can even get your insurance to pay for shrinking your testicles.

1

In The End, The Gym Is Selling An Impossible Fantasy

Milan Stojanovic/iStock

Cracked has told you over and over that the number of people who lose a large amount of weight and keep it off is statistically zero. Now, I have worked with people who’ve transformed their bodies in phenomenal ways, so I’m not going to say it’s impossible to lose weight, but it is much harder than most people think. A large part of that is because the fitness routines we prescribe you are unsustainable, and we know this. Most people will get through the first few days of a training routine just fine, and we’ll tell them it will get easier, but in reality, it gets harder. If it starts to get easier, you’ll stop seeing results. And anytime you take on a new project, whether it’s starting a fitness routine or a custom dildo business, it steals from something else in your life.

Eva K./Wiki Commons “In the end, it was my free time with my kids that I was really giving the shaft to.”

I try not to set unrealistic expectations: During my first meeting with a client, I extract as much info as possible on the person’s lifestyle, mindset, goals, and exercise history, then try drafting a plan they can actually follow. But if gyms everywhere told clients the truth — that there is no finish line; you can never say, “OK, now I have a six-pack, so I’m finished with my body and now I can focus all of my time on video games”; that maintaining that six-pack is now your part-time job for the rest of your life; and the older you get, the more work it will take — a billion-dollar industry would disappear overnight. Forget rising health-insurance premiums — that’s how fat would cripple the economy.

Ryan George hosts The GymWits podcast and has a new book out, Freeweight Training Anatomy. Follow Ryan Menezes on Twitter for stuff cut from this article and other things no one should see.

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